When I asked my parents, the truth unraveled.
“We used it,” my mother said casually. “Your brother needed help, and we supported the family. Everyone benefited.”
I was stunned. What I had viewed as a promise for my future had been quietly spent—with forged signatures and without my knowledge.
I made the difficult choice to walk away and rebuild. It wasn’t easy. Family members didn’t understand, and I was called ungrateful for leaving over “just money.” But then I found something—my great-aunt’s original will. In it, she had written a clear clause: if anyone else used the educational funds, they were legally obligated to repay them in full.
That clause gave me strength.
When I returned with a lawyer, I didn’t want revenge—I wanted accountability. At first, they laughed. Then, they read the will. The conversation changed quickly.
Some called me heartless. But I didn’t betray anyone. I upheld a promise—to myself and to the woman who believed in my potential. If they had been honest, I might have helped. But instead, they chose to deceive.
Thanks to Aunt Martha, I’m now pursuing my education—and my future—with my head held high.
Because a woman with an education has choices. And I choose to stand up for myself.