My 80-Year-Old Grandma Was the True Heiress

On Christmas Eve, the snow fell in relentless sheets.

My grandmother and I were cast out into the snow as if we were nothing by my uncle.

My aunt cursed me as a bad luck charm, while my uncle's boot landed fiercely in my chest.

I knelt in the freezing snow, clutching my grandmother's body as it grew cold, my nails digging into my flesh, convinced that death awaited us tonight.

Suddenly, the blinding headlights cut through the night.

A convoy of Rolls-Royce cars, bearing diplomatic plates, silently blocked the entrance to the rundown neighborhood.