My Grandpa Saw Me Walking With My Newborn And Asked, “Why Aren’t You Driving The Car I Gave You?”

But Noah shifted slightly against me.

And something inside me changed.

“I don’t have the car,” I said quietly. “Lauren drives it. I only have this bike.”
Everything about my grandfather went still.

Then his expression hardened—cold, controlled anger.

He signaled to the driver. The door opened.