Emma was lost in the moment, dancing with her new husband, Dylan, as the music wrapped around them, soft and slow. It was their first dance, a beautiful start to their new life together. The joy, the peace—it was everything she’d ever wanted. But as perfect as it seemed, there was still one thing missing: her parents weren’t here to witness her happiness. She felt their absence, like a hole in her heart that could never be filled.
Just as they were lost in their embrace, the hotel manager, Mr. Scotliff, cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking their bubble of tranquility.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Henderson,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “But there’s someone outside asking to see you.”
Emma frowned and pulled slightly away from Dylan. “Who?” she asked, her voice betraying her curiosity.
“She says she’s your grandmother,” Mr. Scotliff answered, his voice even more hesitant now. “Martha.”
Dylan looked at Emma with concern, his brow furrowing. “I’ll go tell her to leave.”
“No,” Emma sighed, the last thing she wanted was a scene. “She’ll just make a fuss. I’ll go see what this is about.”
She walked outside, her heart heavy with dread. There, standing in the cool evening air, was her grandmother, Martha. Her face lit up when she saw Emma, a bright smile spreading across her wrinkled face.
“Oh, darling, you’re the most beautiful bride! Absolutely perfect,” Martha gushed, reaching out for Emma’s hand, but Emma stepped back sharply.
“What are you doing here?” Emma’s voice was tight, angry even. “You weren’t invited for a reason. I don’t think I need to remind you of that.”
Martha’s eyes glistened with tears as she nodded solemnly. “I know, Emma. I just had to see my only granddaughter get married. I had to be here for you.”
Emma crossed her arms, trying to contain her boiling anger. “You need to leave,” she said coldly. “If it wasn’t for you, my father would be here. He would’ve walked me down the aisle, but no… thanks to you, he’s not.”
Martha’s eyes filled with more tears as she whispered, “I’m sorry, dear… I truly regret what I did. I just wanted to give you a wedding gift.”
Martha reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small red jewelry box, her hands trembling as she handed it to Emma. “This is all I could get you, darling. I hope you like it.”
Emma stared at the box, disgust building inside her. “What is this?” she scoffed, barely able to hide her anger. “A tiny piece of cheap jewelry? How did you even afford this? Did you steal it from someone?”
Martha’s face fell, but before she could respond, Emma cut her off, her voice rising with every word. “If it weren’t for your greed, my father would still be alive, not rotting away in prison. And he would’ve been here today, walking me down the aisle. But you couldn’t even be bothered to help! Just… get out of my life! I never want to see you again!”
Martha’s shoulders slumped as she took a step back. “I hope you don’t hate me forever, sweetheart. Please know, I’ve always adored you.”
With a sad, broken look in her eyes, Martha turned and began to walk away, leaning heavily on her cane. Emma stood there, her heart pounding as she watched her grandmother go, the weight of the moment sinking in.
Tears welled up in Emma’s eyes as memories of the past came rushing back—the day everything changed.
Years ago, Emma sat in her father’s lawyer’s office, feeling out of place as Mr. Morgan, a large man with a stern face, got straight to the point.
“I don’t have good news, kid,” he said bluntly, his words almost too harsh for Emma to understand. She tried to follow his explanation, but the legal jargon made her head spin.
“The people who filed against your father are asking for a compensation,” Mr. Morgan continued. “The amount is… well, it’s huge.”
Emma’s heart sank. “I don’t have that kind of money,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Is there no other way?”
Mr. Morgan’s expression didn’t soften. “If we don’t pay, we go to court. Your father, Johnny, is looking at serious time. A long time.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “No! There has to be something we can do!”
“You need to find that money, kid,” he said sternly. “It’s the only way to save him.”
Emma nodded, her mind racing. She didn’t have the money herself. Her credit was shot, and no bank would give her a loan. The only person she could turn to was her grandmother, Martha.
She had no other choice.
“Gran!” Emma gasped, standing at Martha’s doorstep, breathless and desperate. “It’s the lawyer… they want so much money, and if we don’t pay, Dad’s going to jail!”
Martha’s face softened with sympathy, but then she shook her head. “Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry, but I just can’t help you. I don’t have that kind of money.”
Emma stared at her, feeling her heart sink further. “Please, Gran, we can sell the bakery. We’ll have more than enough.”
Martha’s eyes widened in shock. “My bakery? Emma, it’s all I have. It’s my life’s work. I can’t sell it.”
“Please, Gran!” Emma cried, her voice desperate. “This is about Dad. Do you want him to die in prison? Do you want him to rot there?”
Martha’s face hardened. “I can’t sell it, Emma. How would I live without it? No one would take care of me.”
Emma’s fists clenched at her sides as she stood up, tears streaming down her face. “If you won’t help, I swear I’ll never speak to you again! You’re abandoning your own flesh and blood!” She screamed, her voice raw with emotion. “I hate you!”
With that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The thought of her father alone in prison, facing the consequences of something he didn’t deserve, crushed her.
The next six months were a blur of pain and regret. But the worst moment came when Emma received the call.
“Am I speaking with Mr. Colby’s daughter?” the voice asked on the other end of the line.
“Yes,” Emma said, confused.
The voice hesitated before continuing. “I’m very sorry, but your father passed away last night… a heart attack. It was quick.”
The words didn’t sink in at first. Emma’s body went numb, and she dropped to her knees, crying in the middle of the grocery store.
Later, when her father’s body was cremated, Emma could only feel the cold sting of her grandmother’s abandonment. Martha had let her father die alone, in a cold cell, without a chance for redemption or goodbye.
The next day, Emma stood outside the red jewelry box, feeling a tightness in her chest. She didn’t want anything from her grandmother. But when she threw the box down in anger, something caught her eye.
Dylan’s voice broke through her haze. “Emma! Careful, what’s that?”
Emma knelt quickly, her heart racing as a large, sparkling emerald ring rolled out of the broken box. “Is that… an emerald?” Dylan asked in shock.
Emma stared at the ring, then reached for the small folded piece of paper inside. Her hands trembled as she opened it, and her grandmother’s words filled her eyes:
“Dear Emma,
I know you hate me for what I did. But your father was not a good man. He hurt so many people, and I tried to warn your mother. I wish she had listened. Your father didn’t deserve the love you gave him, and neither do you. I know I could’ve saved him, but I chose not to. The bakery was never mine. I wanted it to be yours. Please, understand one day why I did this.
Love,
Gran”
Emma gasped, her heart aching as the truth sank in. The rage and sorrow that had been building inside her collapsed into a mess of grief.
The next day, Emma drove straight to her grandmother’s house, but when she arrived, she saw two large trucks outside, moving boxes from Martha’s house.
Her stomach dropped. “What’s going on here?” she demanded, confronting the movers.
“We’re just moving stuff out. The house was sold recently,” one of the movers explained, oblivious to her confusion.
Emma turned to Martha’s elderly neighbor, Judy, who greeted her warmly. But the words that followed shattered Emma’s world.
“Martha moved out a few weeks ago. She sold the house to give it to you… after her diagnosis,” Judy said kindly, unaware of the storm she was about to stir.
“What?” Emma whispered, her voice trembling. “What do you mean?”
“She didn’t tell you? She was diagnosed with stage four skin cancer, Emma,” Judy continued, her face sympathetic. “She had been planning to leave everything to you.”
Emma felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her. She needed answers, fast. “Where did she go?” she asked urgently.
“Frank’s motel, I think,” Judy said, confused.
Without another word, Emma ran to her car.
At Frank’s, Emma burst into the rundown motel’s reception. “Give me her room number!” she demanded.
The receptionist, looking frazzled, gave her a strange look. “She… she passed away last night. The coroner already took her,” she said.
The words felt like a punch to the gut. Emma’s vision blurred as the final realization sank in: her grandmother, the woman who could have saved her father, had passed away alone in a filthy motel room.
In a burst of uncontrollable rage and heartbreak, Emma screamed into the night, her voice echoing her broken heart.
