“Let’s see if they survive without us,” the children had laughed—but the old man was hiding a million-dollar inheritance…

Sometimes Corinne sat on the porch with Delphine, who now visited frequently, often bringing her own children. They spoke of gratitude. They spoke of forgiveness—but also of boundaries. They agreed forgiveness did not mean letting someone wound you twice. It meant freeing yourself from the weight of bitterness.

On Corinne’s sixty-third birthday, the estate was alive with celebration. Music played from an old record player. Laughter rose like fireworks. Augusta embraced her and said, “You saved us, Corinne. You gave us the dignity we thought we had lost.”

Corinne leaned on her cane. “I did not save you. You saved me. You gave me what I needed most. You gave me belonging.”

Delphine wrapped her arms around them both. “You are family. That is all there is to it.”