even Emma’s teacher came. And after the cake, I revealed everything: photos of gifts, receipts, and messages—all projected on a screen. The truth spoke for itself. Emma looked at Brittany in shock. “You said Grandma didn’t send anything.” The silence said it all. Brittany fled. Josh, finally waking from his grief, asked for answers. Days later, she was gone. Emma came to stay with me more often. Slowly,

trust was rebuilt. One night, as I tucked her in, she touched the sapphire earrings now truly hers. “Do you think Mommy can see these from heaven?” “I do,” I whispered. “And I think she’s proud of how brave you are.” In the end, revenge wasn’t loud or cruel. It was restoring love where someone tried to steal it—and proving to my granddaughter that she was never forgotten.