My parents told me «You’re adopted, you get nothing when we die.» Then grandma’s lawyer called: «She left you $2 million… and a letter about your parents’ lies.» I drove to their house with a smile…

Didn’t you, my asked? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you got exactly what you wanted. You got rid of the inconvenient reminder of your first wife. You got to play happy family with your new kids.

The only thing you didn’t count on was Grandma Eleanor seeing through your act. We raised you, Susan said desperately. We fed you, clothed you, gave you a roof over your head.

Doesn’t that count for something? You did the bare minimum required by law, I replied, and you made sure I knew every single day that I was unwanted. I looked around the room at these people who had shaped my entire childhood, who had made me feel worthless and unwanted, who had convinced me that I was lucky they tolerated my existence. The truck, I said to my father.

The kitchen renovation. Logan’s boat. Ashley’s car.

How much did you spend thinking you’d inherit Grandma’s money? My father couldn’t meet my eyes. About two hundred thousand dollars, Susan whispered. Well, I said, standing up.

I guess you’ll figure it out. You’re good at telling people to figure things out. Margaret and I headed toward the door, but Ashley’s voice stopped us.

Austin, wait. You’re not really going to take everything, are you? I mean, we’re still family. I turned back to look at her.

Sweet Ashley, who had never once stood up for me when Susan was tearing me down. Ashley, who had gotten a new car for her sixteenth birthday while I was working nights to pay for my own transportation. Family, I said.

You mean like how you included me in family photos? Oh wait, you didn’t. Or like how you invited me to family vacations? Oh wait, you didn’t do that either. Or maybe you mean like how you stood up for me when Susan told everyone I was adopted? No, you didn’t do that either.

But the money could help all of us, Logan said. You could share it. We could all benefit.

The money is helping all of us, I replied. It’s helping me because I’m the one Grandma Eleanor wanted to help. You want money, get jobs.

Take out loans. Figure it out. As Margaret and I reached the door, Susan called out one last time.

Austin, please. We made mistakes, but we’re still your parents. Doesn’t that mean anything? I paused with my hand on the doorknob.

David is my father, I said quietly. Jennifer was my mother. You’re just the woman who married my dad and spent 21 years making me wish I’d never been born.

We left them there in their expensive living room, surrounded by all the things they’d bought with money they never actually had, facing the reality that their lies have finally caught up with them. Six months later, I moved into Grandma Eleanor’s house. Its beautiful four bedrooms, a huge kitchen, a garden that she maintained herself until the very end…