My Parents Abandoned Me for Their New Families and Handed Me Off to My Aunt – Years Later, They Showed Up at My Door!

By sixteen, Ivy was winning local competitions. By twenty, she was traversing state lines with a battered portfolio and a Tupperware of Carol’s lemon bars. Her parents, meanwhile, became mere silhouettes—impersonal ghosts who occasionally sent a card with her name misspelled. Their absence was the silence that allowed Ivy’s talent to roar.

At twenty-two, Ivy created a piece titled “Inheritance.” It was a haunting, raw depiction of a girl building a ladder out of broken scraps of wood and metal, while two faceless adults watched from the shadows. The piece went viral, turning Ivy into an international sensation—”the artist who bloomed through abandonment.” She won a prestigious competition, and with it, a life-changing $250,000.

Three days later, the ghosts returned.

Charlie and Tanya appeared at the café where Ivy worked, clutching wilted gas station flowers and wearing masks of practiced regret. They begged for a “family dinner,” and Ivy, driven by a cold, steady curiosity, agreed. She wanted to see the script they had written. At a local diner, they performed their roles: Tanya folded napkins like she was at a job interview, claiming she had “prayed for this moment,” while Charlie nodded solemnly about the importance of “healing.”

But the mask inevitably slipped. They began to malign Carol, claiming she had “filled Ivy’s head with poison” and “used her” because she wanted a child. Then came the true motive: Tanya’s car was dying, and Charlie needed money for a move. They hadn’t come for their daughter; they had come to cash in on a winner.

“I’ll help you,” Ivy said evenly, her voice devoid of the tremor it once had. “On one condition. Show up at the community center this Saturday at seven.”

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