Everyone in the world adored this young girl’s attractiveness. Few people are aware that another life was concealed beneath this enormous achievement, though. This woman’s attractiveness has fallen prey to parental ego. She gave the child’s mind and health in exchange for millions of money.
Eden was raised as both a source of mother affection and a way to increase his fortune. Everyone noted the baby’s remarkable beauty when she was just four months old. The mother made it her mission to make her child renowned around the world, and she made every effort to carry out her vision.
The little child made her debut appearance on a TV program shortly after turning one. Her beauty absolutely awed every TV watcher. It was immediately apparent that the mother had gone to considerable lengths to construct a persona for her child. He brought his daughter to the solarium where she experimented on clothing, hair, and makeup. In order to give the spectator the impression of a living doll, this was done. Her mother’s wish for her to secure a lucrative deal started to come true as soon as she made her debut on television.
Everyone loved her, and it’s astonishing that despite her youth, she handled all the pressures of public life. Nobody at the time could have imagined how challenging it was for her.
At the height of the girl’s fame, many cautioned the mother that the baby’s health would be harmed by the girl’s regular use of the solarium and her weight in cosmetics. The woman, however, would not listen.
Eden had to sleep occasionally since he was always going to auditions and performing in performances. Energy drinks and lots of coffee are helpful under these circumstances. By the way, mothers whose kids competed in beauty pageants favored these drinks. They were willing to make any sacrifice.
Our protagonist definitively stopped taking part in auditions and performances when she was six years old. The mom was obliged to accept her daughter’s decision after a brief argument between mother and daughter. After then, they periodically made public appearances but lost their prior level of fame. A book on the subject was written by a woman, and it garnered mixed reviews.
He charged the mother of the kid with ruining her daughter’s childhood and compromising her health. The author claims to have witnessed the mother’s repeated cruelty and occasionally unpleasant behavior toward the girl.
The girl was reportedly always on a diet, according to the author. The girl’s health suffered as a result, but the mother showed little concern.
Eden has reached the age of 17. She once experienced childhood as an ordinary child, free from a barrage of photographs and contests. She no longer has aspirations of competing in beauty pageants, although she still enjoys posing for photos occasionally.
Eden Wood excelled in her academics, enjoyed taking part in school-sponsored amateur productions, and is a talented singer and drummer. Eden’s participation in the teen television series was also made public.
Eden Wood was able to forget the difficulties she had as a youngster. She went back to his specialty as an adolescent.
MY LATE GRANDMA’S NEIGHBOR ACCUSED ME OF HIDING “HER SHARE OF THE WILL” — WHEN SHE REFUSED TO LEAVE, I GAVE HER A REALITY CHECK.
The morning sun, usually a welcome sight, cast harsh shadows on the woman standing on my porch, her face a mask of indignation. Mrs. Gable, Grandma’s “entitled neighbor,” as she so lovingly referred to her, was a force of nature, and not a particularly pleasant one.
“How long am I supposed to wait for my share of the will?!” she demanded, her voice a grating rasp that could curdle milk. “My grandkids are coming over, and I want them to take their part of the inheritance before they leave!”
I blinked, trying to process the sheer audacity of her statement. “Mrs. Gable,” I said, my voice calm despite the rising tide of annoyance, “Grandma’s will… it doesn’t mention you.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed into slits. “Nonsense! We were like family! She wouldn’t leave me out.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but everything in the house now belongs to me.”
I offered a small concession. “I’ve packed some boxes for donation. You’re welcome to look through them, see if there’s anything you want.”
“Donation boxes?!” she shrieked. “Your grandma was like family to us! We had to be mentioned in the will. Give it to me! I have to see for myself.”
“I can’t do that,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “The will is a legal document.”
She planted her feet, a stubborn look on her face. “Then I’m not leaving. I’ll just stand here until you give me what’s mine.” She proceeded to stand directly in front of my porch, peering into my windows and muttering under her breath.
I sighed. This was getting ridiculous. I needed to give this woman a reality check, a gentle but firm reminder that she wasn’t entitled to anything.
I went inside, grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper, and returned to the porch. Mrs. Gable watched me, her eyes filled with suspicion.
“What’s that?” she asked, her voice laced with distrust.
“I’m writing you a bill,” I said, my voice deliberately casual.
“A bill? For what?”
“For services rendered,” I said, scribbling on the paper. “Let’s see… ‘Consultation regarding inheritance, one hour… $100.'”
Mrs. Gable’s face turned a shade of purple I didn’t think possible. “Are you serious?!”
“Perfectly,” I said, adding another line. “‘Unauthorized surveillance of private property, one hour… $50.'”
“That’s outrageous!” she sputtered.
“And,” I continued, adding a final line, “‘Emotional distress caused by unwarranted demands, one hour… $150.'” I handed her the paper. “That’ll be $300, Mrs. Gable.”
She snatched the paper from my hand, her eyes scanning the ludicrous list. “You can’t do this!”
“Actually, I can,” I said, a smile playing on my lips. “And if you don’t pay, I’ll have to add late fees.”
She crumpled the paper in her fist, her face a mask of fury. “You’re just like your grandma!” she hissed. “Entitled and selfish!”
“Perhaps,” I said, “but I’m also practical. And I value my peace of mind.”
She glared at me for a moment, then turned and stomped off the porch, muttering about lawyers and lawsuits. I watched her go, a sense of satisfaction washing over me.
Later that day, as I sorted through Grandma’s belongings, I found a small, velvet-lined box tucked away in a drawer. Inside was a handwritten note, addressed to me.
“My dearest grandchild,” it read, “I know Mrs. Gable can be… persistent. Remember, you owe no one anything. Your happiness is your own. And sometimes, a little bit of absurdity is the best way to deal with entitlement.”
I smiled, a warm feeling spreading through my chest. Grandma had known exactly what to do. And she had left me the perfect tool to handle it. I had learned a valuable lesson that day: sometimes, the best way to deal with entitled people is to meet their absurdity with your own. And a little bit of humor never hurts.
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