For years, I believed my parents had given my sister and me a comfortable childhood through hard work and sacrifice. Then I met Elias. My parents hated him almost immediately. They insisted I marry Preston instead, a wealthy man from a family they considered respectable. They never gave me a real reason. They only repeated that Elias had no money, no connections, and no future. I thought they were embarrassed by him. I was wrong.
Two years into my relationship with Elias, he proposed. I accepted, despite everything my parents had said. After our wedding, he finally told me why my parents had been so terrified of him. He reached into an old box and pulled out a photograph. It showed my father, twenty years younger, standing beside a burning rental house, with a gas can clearly visible at his feet. Then Elias told me who had taken the photograph—and why his family had kept it all these years. Click continue reading below for Part2
