"Exactly! You've gone too far!"
"The younger one is so much better—she only has eyes for her mother."
"Look how thin your mother's gotten! And who do you think she did that for?"
I laughed, though there was no humor in it.
"You're right. I'm throwing out my own mother. I'm the ungrateful one. But Mom—" I met her eyes. "Tell me. Who exactly did you waste away for? In all these twenty-some years of sacrifice, was any of it ever for me?"
Mom dabbed at her eyes. "How... how can you say that? If I wasn't doing it for you, who else would it be for?"
"Liar."
A bitter smile twisted my lips.
"When I was eighteen, Susan claimed I hit her. You didn't ask for my side—you just slapped me across the face. Ten times. When I said I was leaving, you know what you told me?"
I let the words hang.
"You said if I had the guts, I could die out there for all you cared. You said Susan was the only daughter you needed."
The color drained from Mom's face.
Susan stepped forward, panic flickering in her eyes. "Trudy, you—"
"You don't get to speak."
I cut her off.
"Susan Simmons, I'm not going to dig up every time you framed me. But right now? You have zero right to call me unfilial."
"The only thing you did when Mom got sick was make a phone call. That's it. For three years—three years—who was here? Who took care of her? Did you spend a single dollar? Lift a single finger? Did you drain your savings down to nothing for her?"
Susan looked away.
I laughed coldly.
"Three years without a visit. But the second there's an inheritance? Suddenly you're the devoted daughter."
"Enough!"
Mom's expression hardened. "Your sister didn't visit because she was preparing for graduate school! She cared about me just as much—she texted me every single day!"
Her voice rose.
"You're the one I see through. I know you only came back for the money. You disappeared for years, and now suddenly you show up? You think I can't tell?"
The crowd turned on me, disapproval written across their faces.
"Young lady, don't burn your bridges. You can't put a price on family."
"That's right. A mother knows her daughter best. If she's leaving everything to the younger one, it's because she knows exactly what kind of person you are. Two-faced, probably."
Susan wiped at her eyes, her lashes glistening.
I looked at Mom, my smile razor-thin.
"She couldn't visit because of grad school. Fine. What about me? I quit my job to take care of you."
The room went still.
Before anyone could react, I snatched the will from Susan's hands. Then I pulled out the stack of hospital receipts I'd kept—three years' worth—and threw them into her lap.
"I spent ten years saving up a million dollars. Every cent of it went to you. You wouldn't even buy yourself a new towel, so I thought you were struggling. I scraped together everything I had for your medical bills."
My voice cracked.
"And the whole time, you had ten million. You were never short on money. You just wanted to make sure Susan got every last penny."
"What?!"
Even the young woman supporting Mom stared with wide eyes.
I laughed—a hollow, broken sound.
"What about me? I gave you a million dollars over all these years. Do I just not matter? Am I supposed to be nothing but a stepping stone for my sister?"
"Grandma, you..."
The young woman picked up one of the receipts, disbelief spreading across her face.
"You had ten million dollars, and you didn't spend any of it? You just... bled your older daughter dry?"
"That's not—"
Mom started to explain, but a visitor from the next room couldn't hold back any longer.
"That's enough! I've watched this girl run herself ragged for three years. She sleeps three hours a night. Works harder than any hired nurse. Ma'am, playing favorites is one thing, but this is beyond the pale."
Every pair of eyes in the room shifted—and the way they looked at the two of them changed completely.
