When Grandma died, my relatives rushed to her house, eager to find her will. I, on the other hand, stayed with her old dog, never imagining that it carried with it more than just memories. Days later, I discovered the secret Grandma had hidden in the one place no one would think to look.
To get my whole family together, I either had to throw a ton of money in front of them or wait for someone to die. Unfortunately, that day it was both.
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I stood in the cemetery, watching as they lowered Grandma into the depths of the earth.
I held Berta’s leash tightly, and she pulled forward, as if she wanted to go after Grandma.
Berta was Grandma’s dog. She’d had her since I was little, and, as Grandma often liked to say, Berta was her best friend and almost the only one she could truly trust.
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Grandma was a good person, although certainly a bit eccentric.
He had earned a lot of money throughout his life, but he never gave a single penny to his children or grandchildren.
Instead, she paid for everyone’s studies. She believed that in life everyone should earn their own way, rise from nothing, just as she had once done.
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That’s why neither my mother, nor my uncle and aunt, nor their children ever spoke to Grandma again or even mentioned her… until that day.
I looked around, observing each face. I knew perfectly well why they were there: money.
They hoped that, at least after Grandma’s death, they would finally get something. But, knowing her, they knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
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During the last six months of her life, Grandma had been very ill, and I had moved in to take care of her.
Balancing it with my job as a nurse wasn’t easy, but I managed.
I knew that Grandma appreciated that at least someone stayed with her during those difficult times.
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But it hadn’t made my life any easier either. I remember the day I received a huge bill for a car repair.
“I don’t know how I’m going to pay for this,” I told him.
“You’re a strong girl. You’ll manage,” my grandmother replied.
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Of course, I didn’t expect anything different. He didn’t even make exceptions for me. But he always supported and guided me, and I was grateful for that.
After the funeral, everyone went to Grandma’s house to hear the reading of the will. Knowing my family, I had already packed my bags beforehand.
I knew they wouldn’t let me stay at their house. While we waited for the lawyer to arrive, no one said a word; only cold, distrustful glances were exchanged.
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Then Aunt Florence, probably bored, turned to me. “Meredith, remind me, what kind of doctor are you?” she asked.
“I’m a nurse,” I replied.
“A nurse?” Uncle Jack repeated, scandalized. “You won’t make any money that way. Tom has his own car company, and Alice owns several beauty salons,” he added, pointing at my cousins who were puffing out their noses in pride.
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“I help people. That’s enough for me,” I said.
“I can’t believe I gave birth to her,” Mom murmured.
I spoke to her exactly three times a year: on my birthday, on her birthday, and at Christmas, always by phone.
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Suddenly, the doorbell rang. When I realized no one was going to move, I opened the door myself.
Mr. Johnson, the lawyer handling Grandma’s will, was there. I led him into the living room, where the whole family was sitting in silence.
Mr. Johnson was standing by the entrance to the hall and politely declined my invitation to sit down.
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“I won’t take up much of your time,” he said calmly. “There’s not much to discuss.”
“What do you mean there’s not much to discuss? What about the will?” Mom asked, clearly angry.
“He must have left something for someone,” Uncle Jack said impatiently.
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“It seems Cassandra didn’t think the same,” Mr. Johnson replied curtly.
“What do you mean?” Aunt Florence asked.
“None of you will receive any inheritance from Cassandra,” Mr. Johnson said calmly.
The room was filled with screams.
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“How is this possible?! We’re his family! Who will get the money and the house then?” Mom shouted.
“I’m afraid I can’t share that information with you,” Mr. Johnson said. “I must now ask everyone to leave the house.”
But nobody moved.
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“That old hag!” shouted Uncle Jack. “She knew our mother didn’t care about us, not even a penny after she died!”
“Don’t say that,” I said quickly. “Grandma cared about us. She cared about everyone, she just showed it in her own way.”
“Yes, of course,” Mom muttered. “She was a witch while she lived, and she still is now.”
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At that moment, Berta barked loudly.
“Oh, right, and what are we going to do with that dog?” Aunt Florence asked.
“Put her to sleep,” Mom said coldly.
“I agree,” said Uncle Jack. “She’s old now anyway.”
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“They can’t sacrifice her!” I shouted.
“And what are we supposed to do with her? It’s better than throwing her out on the street,” Mom said.
“Grandma loved Berta. Someone has to take her away,” I said.
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The room was filled with bitter laughter.
“If you want her, take her,” Mom said. “That woman didn’t care about us. Why should we care about her dog?”
“I can’t take her with me, my rental agreement doesn’t allow pets,” I said quietly.
“Then it’s decided, we’ll sacrifice her,” Uncle Jack said firmly.
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“Tom? Alice?” I turned to my cousins, desperate.
Tom gestured to me with his hand. Alice shook her head. “No way. I’m not bringing a flea-ridden animal into my house,” she said.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. I’ll take Berta,” I said.
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Mr. Johnson cleared his throat loudly, reminding everyone of his presence. “I’ll ask you one last time: please leave the house. You no longer have the right to be here,” he said.
“And who has that right?!” Mom shouted. “We grew up in this house!”
“Please don’t make me call the police,” Mr. Johnson said.
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They all grumbled, gathered their belongings, and left one by one. I collected Berta’s things, put them in the car, helped her into the back seat, and drove back to my apartment.
I felt relieved when the landlord agreed to let me stay with Berta for a while, although he did raise the rent a little.
I had prepared myself for the possibility that we might end up on the street.
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It was clear that Berta missed her grandmother as much as I did. My grandmother had been the only one in our family who truly supported me.
She had paid for my studies, was always interested in my work, and celebrated every patient’s recovery. I missed her terribly.
One day, after a night shift at the hospital, I heard an unexpected knock at my door.
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When I opened it, I froze. My mother was standing there.
“Mom? What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I know you’ve got it!” he shouted.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, surprised.
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“I know you inherited everything from Grandma!” my mother shouted.
“The only thing I inherited was Berta,” I said.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Berta, grandma’s dog,” I said.
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“Don’t lie to me!” my mother shouted. “You’ve lived with her for the last few months. She must have left everything to you! You were always her favorite granddaughter,” she said, exaggerating the last part.
“Grandma didn’t give me money, just like she didn’t give it to you,” I replied.
“Liar!” my mother shouted. “Where is it? I gave birth to you! You owe me that money!”
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“I have nothing!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face.
“We’ll see about that, witch!” my mother snapped and left.
I closed the door and threw myself to the floor, unable to stop crying. Berta climbed onto my lap, as if trying to comfort me.
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I started petting her, and then something about her collar caught my eye. I took off the collar and turned her over.
There was an address engraved on it, and the number 153 was on the back. I frowned and entered the address into my GPS.
He pointed to the train station, and the number seemed to be for a ticket window. But where would he find the key to that window?
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Then I realized that Berta’s collar tag could be opened. I opened it, and a small key fell into my hand.
Without a second thought, I went straight to the ticket window. I found ticket 153 and tried the key. It fit.
When I opened the locker, I found a folder labeled “For Meredith .” Inside was a handwritten note from Grandma and some documents. I took out the note and began to read.
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I decided to leave everything I had gained in my life to a pure-hearted person who will not exploit others.
Everything I own will go to whoever agrees to take care of Berta. And I’m more than certain that person will be you, Meredith.
You’re the only one in our family who still shows decency, and you deserve the best. With love, your grandmother.
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After reading the note, I took the documents out of the folder and realized it was Grandma’s will. I could hardly believe it was real.
“Aha! I knew you were hiding something!” I heard my mother’s voice behind me.
Startled, I turned around. “I swear I didn’t know anything,” I said.
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“So he really decided to leave it all to Meredith,” Uncle Jack said, as if he had appeared out of nowhere.
“What are you doing here?” my mother shouted.
“You thought you were so clever, sister. I’ve hired a private investigator to follow Meredith,” Uncle Jack said. “Meredith, be a good girl and give me the will.”
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“No! You’re my daughter! Give it to me!” my mother shouted.
“Meredith won’t give it to anyone,” Mr. Johnson said firmly.
“And where did you come from?!” asked Uncle Jack.
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“My phone’s sensor alerted me when the locker opened,” Mr. Johnson explained. “Since I’m responsible for executing Cassandra’s will and I suspected something like this might happen, I came as soon as I could.”
“I don’t care! I’m Meredith’s mother! I have rights to the will!” my mother insisted.
“Cassandra’s inheritance goes to whoever took responsibility for caring for Berta. It wasn’t you,” Mr. Johnson said calmly.
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“I’ll take that flea-ridden dog away if I have to!” shouted Uncle Jack.
“It’s too late. Meredith took Berta without knowing she would receive anything for it. That was the main condition of the will. And if any of you try to interfere, you’ll have to deal with me and the police,” Mr. Johnson said.
I stood there holding the folder, my hands trembling, unable to say anything.
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“Come on, Meredith, we have a lot to discuss,” Mr. Johnson said, and we headed to my car.
“Why did you do this? Why make everyone fight?” I asked Mr. Johnson as we sat in the car.
“He wanted his money to go to a good person who would spend it on good works,” Mr. Johnson said.
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I nodded. “Then I’ll give most of it to the hospital,” I said.
“Now it’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it,” Mr. Johnson replied.
At that moment, I missed my grandmother more than ever, but I knew I would try not to let her down.
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This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been changed. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim all responsibility for accuracy, reliability, and interpretations.
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