Emma’s parents gave her a difficult decision when she fell in love with a modest teacher: either he or them.

Their chairs were empty on the day of her wedding, but her grandfather was there to support her. Her estranged parents asked for her forgiveness at his funeral ten years later, but not for the reasons she had anticipated.

My parents used to joke about one day living in a huge mansion in our immaculate suburban home. By high school, I knew that every choice they made was motivated by their desire to go up the social scale, therefore it wasn’t hilarious.

Mom even made judgments about my pals based on the income of their parents. When I invited Bianca over for a scientific assignment, I’ll never forget how she reacted. “She isn’t suitable for you,” Mom remarked, mocking Bianca’s attire and hairstyle. I became aware of their narrow-mindedness at that point.

Then I went to college and met Liam.

“A teacher?” When I brought him up, my mother almost choked on her champagne. “Although they are amazing, teachers aren’t exactly—well, you know.”

For once, I didn’t care even though I understood exactly what she meant. Unlike other men who showed off their wealth, Liam’s love of teaching made him stand apart. Before he could finish, I answered yes when he proposed with his grandmother’s ring in the communal garden where we had our first date.
The response from my parents was chilly.

“Not that instructor!” My dad spat. “He is unable to support us or you! You’re squandering your future!

Mom said fiercely, “We’ll cut you off if you marry him.” It’s either him or us.
Despite my sadness, I remained resolute. “If you decide to change your mind, I’ll send out an invitation.”

Aside from the two vacant front-row seats, our wedding was small and ideal. Grandpa’s presence filled the emptiness.

It wasn’t an easy life. My freelance work and Liam’s teaching pay were insufficient to meet our expenses. However, love was abundant in our home, particularly when Sophie was born. Grandpa was our pillar of support, teaching Sophie card tricks and bringing groceries when we needed them.

At one point, he said to Sophie, “You know what real wealth is?” “It’s being loved for who you are by those who love you.”

I was lost after Grandpa went away. I saw my parents, who were older but still well-groomed, at his funeral and they begged for forgiveness.

My mother took my hands and murmured, “Emma, darling, we’ve been such idiots.” Could we attempt to mend our relationship?

Before Aunt Claire drew me aside, my heart was racing. “Avoid falling for it,” she said. “They are only expressing regret due to Grandpa’s wishes.”

“Under what circumstances?” I inquired.

Grandpa had linked their fortune to making amends with me, Claire clarified. Their portion would go to charity if they didn’t have it.

The truth was harsh. It still has to do with money.

I found out that day that Grandpa had given me a separate legacy to help with Sophie’s schooling and to ease our financial burden. But my parents would get nothing because their portion went to nonprofits that support education.

I grinned, imagining Grandpa’s contented expression. He had created something lovely out of their avarice.

I felt at ease that evening as I curled up on our shabby couch with Liam and Sophie. The warmth of the family I had created now overshadowed the hurt caused by my parents’ deception. I have no regrets about putting love before money. I was the richest person, after all.