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Years later, Ethan grew into a thoughtful, strong man. When he was 25, he invited me to live with him in his new home, giving me comfort and security after decades of struggle.
Ethan calmly refused. “That house belongs to us, not you. You walked away. Grandma gave me everything else. You don’t get to show up now.”
Mark left with nothing. Ethan and I restored the old house together, honoring memories, not greed.
Family isn’t defined by blood—it’s defined by who stays. And after everything, it was always Ethan and me.
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