The letter started with my mom’s usual loving tone, words that seemed to wrap around me like a warm embrace. I remembered the day she gave it to me, her voice soft but firm, telling me it was something I should keep close. “For when you need a little courage,” she had said with a wry smile.

As I read, my eyes welled up. She wrote about bravery, about staying true to oneself even when the world seemed to ask for more than you could give. “Remember, Claire,” she had penned, “your worth is not tied to what you can do for others, but who you are inside. Share when you want to, not when you’re expected to.” Her words rang like a bell in my heart, cutting through the murk of doubt and hesitation.

A strange calm settled over me, a new resolve taking root. I folded the letter carefully, slipping it back into my purse. Looking up, I met Karen’s gaze, her expectant smile faltering as she noticed the change in my demeanor.

“I appreciate the invitation tonight,” I started, my voice steady despite the tension. “But my mom’s inheritance isn’t just money. It’s a reminder of her and what she believed in. She taught me about boundaries and respect, and that’s something I hold dearly.”

Karen blinked, surprise flickering across her face. “Claire, it’s just—”

I held up a hand, not unkindly, but firmly. “I know you mean well, but this is something I need to stand firm on. My mom always said that generosity should come from the heart, not obligation. Tonight, I’d prefer to honor her by sticking to that.”

Ethan looked up finally, his expression a mix of irritation and confusion. “Claire, it’s not about—”

I shook my head, cutting him off with a gentle but decisive tone. “Ethan, it is to me. It’s not about the money. It’s about being true to myself and what I’ve learned from my mom. I was hoping you’d understand that.”