I turned twenty on a warm Saturday afternoon.

My grandfather, Richard Coleman, hosted a small birthday gathering at his house—nothing extravagant, just family. My mother, Helen, arrived with her new husband, Mark Turner. She’d married him barely six months after divorcing my father. I’d learned to tolerate Mark’s presence, though his polished smile always made my stomach twist.

After dinner, Grandpa stood, tapped his glass, and announced he had a special gift for me. The room quieted as he handed me a blue folder.

Inside were legal documents.

My breath stopped.

They showed the complete transfer of ownership of Coleman Industries—his $250-million manufacturing company—into my name.

“Grandpa… is this real?” I whispered.

He squeezed my hand gently. “You’ve always been responsible, Emily. This company will be safer with you than with anyone else.”

Before I could even process what I was holding, my mother shot to her feet. Her expression shifted quickly—shock, calculation, then a stiff smile.

“Well,” she said loudly, “this makes things much easier. Mark will take over running the company starting Monday.”

I stared at her. “What? No. I’m the owner.”

Mark stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Emily, corporate leadership is complex. Someone your age can’t handle it.”

“I’m not handing it over,” I said firmly. “This was Grandpa’s company. Now it’s mine.”

My mother’s face hardened instantly. “If you’re going to be ungrateful,” she snapped, “pack your things and get out of our house tonight.”

The room went silent.

Grandpa leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips—like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Helen,” he said calmly, “I think Emily should share the rest of her gift.”

I frowned. “The rest?”

“Tell them what else I signed yesterday,” he said gently.

My mother’s irritation turned to confusion—then fear. I opened the second envelope inside the folder. My heart pounded as I read