After Selling My House To Help My Three Children Start Their Businesses, I Ended Up Living In A Small Room Above A Garage. Last Christmas, I Showed Up At My Daughter’s Mansion With A Gift And Was Met With Surprise. ‘Sorry, This Is A Private Event,’ She Said.

“I had no idea you were related to the Wallaces. Emma never mentioned her mother was the Ruth Wallace.”

Emma stepped forward, her composure cracking. “Mr.

Harmon, I didn’t realize you knew my mother.”

“Know her?” Richard laughed. “Your mother is something of a legend among the parents at Westridge. There’s even a scholarship in her name now.” He turned back to me.

“Which makes it all the more baffling why I’ve been told you couldn’t be located for the awards ceremony last month.”

I felt my heart sink. Awards ceremony? I wasn’t informed of any ceremony.

David approached now, setting down his champagne glass. “What award ceremony?” His eyes darted nervously between Richard and me. Richard looked genuinely confused.

“The Westridge Legacy Award. It comes with a grant of $50,000. When we couldn’t reach you directly, we contacted your family.” He gestured toward my children.

“We were told you were traveling abroad indefinitely.”

The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet. The implications of what Richard was saying crashed over me in waves. My children had intercepted communication about an award and money meant for me.

They had deliberately kept me in the dark, telling people I was unavailable. Lily appeared at David’s side, her face ashen. “Mom, we can explain.”

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