I took the microphone. My heart beat like a drum in my chest.
“The person I want to thank today isn’t my parents or my brother. It’s my late Grandma Esme.
She believed in me when no one else did.
Every degree I earned, every shift I worked, every life I saved—it all began with her love.”
Then, applause.
From friends. From strangers.
My parents stared.
Deacon wouldn’t meet my eyes.
And I didn’t flinch.
The Cost of Truth
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