After four years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit, I finally came home. But my key didn’t work. The woman who opened the door was a frail, terrified stranger. It turned out my fiancée had sold my house to her scumbag son, who then used it to dump his own mother after stealing her fortune. We were two abandoned souls, and we became a family. Then, on her deathbed, she gave me one final, mysterious mission…

He’d visited once since then, to drop off a bag of cheap groceries and tell her he was too busy to talk. He’d taken her pension card, her dignity, and her will to live.

Two abandoned souls, left to rot by the people who were supposed to love us. It was a cruel joke, but we weren’t laughing. Instead, we became a family. I called her Grandma, and she called me “sonny.” I fixed the leaky roof and got the old TV working. She’d tell me stories of her life, a successful businesswoman who made the mistake of thinking you could buy a child’s love.

“I gave him everything,” she’d say, her clear eyes clouded with sadness. “The best schools, cars, money whenever he asked. All I wanted was for him to be happy. I just didn’t teach him how to be a good man.”