I’m Ryan, 19, and my hands are still shaking as I write this. For a long time, life was simple—my mom, Melissa, loved me fiercely. Before breast cancer took her when I was nine, she set up a $25,000 trust for me to receive at eighteen. “College, a first place—something that makes you proud,” she said. My dad promised to protect it, and for a while, he did.
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