Harry and his brother Walter were called to the lawyer’s office after their grandmother passed away. Walter was excited to receive the call, as he knew it would be about their grandmother’s inheritance.

When their grandfather died five years ago, Harry and Walter were left with nothing, and all of his wealth went to his beloved wife. So, now that his grandmother had passed away, Walter was expecting everything to go to them.

Although they were only a year apart, Harry and Walter were very different. Instead of relying on their family’s riches, Harry chose to strike up on his own and work hard for what he had.

Meanwhile, Walter always had his eyes on the prize. When his parents died, he knew that staying close to his grandparents would one day get him the inheritance he believed he deserved. He worked in the business his father left him and Harry, putting work above everything else.

“I promised him that the house he built for me would be passed on from generation to generation, and I want to fulfill that promise before I go. Please, do that for me,” she had told them.

Harry and Walter nodded, but only one was being genuine. That day in the lawyer’s office, it was clear who had their grandmother’s interest at heart.

“What else?” Walter asked.

“Nothing else. That is all that is in her will,” the lawyer told him.

“What?! That can’t be! What about all her money? Her jewelry? I know she had a lot!” he screamed.

“We have already searched the house for any valuables, and none were found. She had already closed her bank account before she died. This is all she had left,” the lawyer explained.

Still furious, Walter stormed outside the office with Harry following behind him. “We need to fulfill grandma’s wish,” Harry told his brother.

“For what? She won’t know that we didn’t waste any money rebuilding that old house. I don’t want anything to do with that house. Do with it as you please,” Walter told him before driving away.

Harry wanted to fulfill his grandmother’s wish but knew he had no money. He had a lot of debt and only made enough money for his family’s necessities.

He decided to use his savings and borrow additional funding from his wealthy friend to rebuild his grandmother’s house. While rebuilding it himself, he was fixing the sewage system in the front lawn when he noticed a wooden hatch as he dug the ground.

“What is this?” he said to himself as pulled the opening. He opened the hatch, and it opened directly to a short flight of stairs that led to an underground room. He went down with a bright lamp and was surprised by what he discovered.

There was a wooden chest in the room with a letter on top. Harry’s grandfather had written the letter before he passed away, and it read:

“To my grandson Harry,

Don’t worry. Your grandmother and I are safe now and are watching over you from above. We hope you use this house and everything in it to enjoy life with your families. Now, take this letter and show it to my lawyer. There, you will find what you deserve. With love, Grandpa.”

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. He read the letter multiple times before deciding to open the chest. In the trunk were family albums and a box of jewelry that his grandparents owned.

Harry couldn’t help but smile. “I do love my grandparents a whole lot. I’d fulfill their wishes any day,” he replied.

“I’m transferring ownership of a bank account under your grandfather’s name to you. It has about $300,000. He said that if you didn’t decide to rebuild your grandmother’s house, I should transfer all of this to charity,” the lawyer explained.

After knowing this, Harry decided to donate to charity anyway. He donated $100,000 to charities working with the elderly and kept the rest to himself. With the money, he paid off his debts, completely rebuilt his grandmother’s house, and started a business for him and his wife.

In the end, they sold the house they lived in and moved into his grandmother’s house. Their cafe business launched successfully, and they had more than enough money to live life comfortably and without debt.

What can we learn from this story?

• Our elders do not owe us anything. While some people leave an inheritance for their children and grandchildren, they are not obligated to do so. Walter expected a hefty sum from his grandparents and was disappointed when he did not get it. Meanwhile, Harry did not expect anything at all, and he was blessed with more than he could ever imagine.
• Family should come above material possessions and wealth. Harry and Walter couldn’t be any more different. Harry worked to provide his family with their needs while spending quality time with them. On the other hand, Walter prioritized gaining wealth over his family. In the end, Walter continued with this mentality, while Harry was able to live comfortably while enjoying the fruits of his hard work with his loved ones.

If you liked this story, you might like this one about a boy who handed his poor widowed mom a box of money, claiming it was given by his father before he passed away.

This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.

I never thought I’d experience grief so young, but here I am at 34, a widower with a 5-year-old son. The last time I saw my wife Stacey two months ago, her chestnut hair smelled of lavender as I kissed her goodbye. Then, a phone call that will forever be etched in my memory shattered my world… 💔

I was in Seattle at that time, finalizing a significant deal for my company when my phone buzzed. It was a call from Stacey’s father.

“Abraham, there’s been an accident. Stacey… she’s gone.”

“What? No, that’s impossible. I just talked to her last night!”

“I’m so sorry, son. It happened this morning. A drunk driver…”

His words faded into a dull roar. I don’t remember the flight home, just stumbling into our empty house. Stacey’s parents had already arranged everything. The funeral was over, and I hadn’t been able to say goodbye.

“We didn’t want to wait,” her mother said, avoiding my eyes. “It was better this way.”

I was too numb to argue. I should have fought harder. I should have demanded to see her, to say goodbye. But grief does funny things to your mind. It clouds your judgment and makes you accept things you’d normally question.

“When’s Mommy coming home?”

“She can’t, buddy. But she loves you very much.”

“Can we call her? Will she talk to us, Daddy?”

“No, baby. Mommy’s in heaven now. She can’t talk to us anymore.”

He buried his face in my chest as I held him tight, my tears falling silently. How could I explain death to a five-year-old when I could barely understand it myself?

Two months crawled by.

One morning, as I watched Luke push his cereal around his bowl, barely eating, I knew we needed a change.

“Hey champ, how about we go to the beach?” I asked, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice.

His eyes lit up for the first time in weeks. “Can we build sandcastles?”

“You bet! And maybe we’ll see some dolphins.”

We checked into a beachfront hotel, our days filled with sun and surf. I watched Luke splash in the waves, his laughter a soothing melody to my weary soul. I almost forgot the pain and lost myself in the simple joy of being a dad.

On our third day, I was lost in thought when Luke came running.

“Daddy! Daddy!” he shouted. I smiled, thinking he wanted more ice cream.

“Dad, look, Mom’s back!” he said, pointing at someone.

I froze, following his gaze. A woman stood by the beach, her back to us. Same height as Stacey with the same chestnut hair. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat.

“Luke, buddy, that’s not—”

The woman turned slowly. And my stomach dropped the moment our eyes met.

“Daddy, why does Mommy look different?” Luke’s innocent voice cut through my shock.

I couldn’t speak. My eyes were fixed on the horror about thirty yards away, laughing.

It was Stacey.

Her eyes widened as she grabbed the arm of a man next to her. They hurried away, disappearing into the crowd of beach-goers.

“Mommy!” Luke cried, but I scooped him up.

“We need to go, buddy.”

“But Dad, it’s Mom! Didn’t you see her? Why didn’t she come say hi?”

I carried him back to our room, my mind reeling. It couldn’t be. I’d buried her. Hadn’t I? But I knew what I saw. That was Stacey. My wife. Luke’s mother. The woman I thought was dead.

That night, after Luke fell asleep, I paced the balcony. My hands shook as I dialed Stacey’s mother.

“Hello?” she answered.

“I need to know exactly what happened to Stacey.”

“No, tell me again.”

“The accident was early morning. It was too late by the time we reached the hospital.”

“And the body? Why couldn’t I see her?”

“It was too damaged. We thought it best—”

“You thought wrong,” I snapped, hanging up.

I stood there, staring out at the dark ocean. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it in my gut. And I was going to get to the bottom of it.

I spent hours combing the beach, the shops, and the restaurants. No sign of Stacey or her companion. With each passing hour, my frustration grew. Was I going crazy? Had I imagined the whole thing?

As the sun began to set, I slumped onto a bench, defeated. Suddenly, a familiar voice made me jump.

“I knew you’d look for me.”

I turned to find Stacey standing there, alone this time. She looked just like I remembered, but somehow different. Harder. Colder.

“It’s complicated, Abraham.”

“Then explain it,” I snarled, my hands shaking with anger and shock as I secretly captured her conversation on my phone.

“I never meant for you to find out like this. I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“It’s not yours,” she whispered, not meeting my eyes.

The story slowly spilled out. An affair. A pregnancy. An elaborate plan to escape.

“My parents helped me,” Stacey admitted. “We knew you’d be away. The timing was perfect.”

Tears streamed down her face. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t face you. This way, everyone could move on.”

“Move on? I thought you were DEAD! Do you know what it’s like to tell your five-year-old son his mother is never coming home?”

“Abraham, please try to understand—”

“Understand what? That you’re a liar? A cheater? That you let me grieve while you ran off with your lover?”

I stood, towering over her. “No. You don’t get to call the shots anymore. You lost that right when you decided to play dead.”

As Stacey opened her mouth to respond, a small voice cut through, stopping me cold.

“Mommy?”

We both turned. Luke stood there, his eyes wide, clutching his nanny’s hand. My heart sank. How much had he heard?

Stacey’s face went white. “Luke, honey—”

I scooped him up, backing away. “Don’t you dare speak to him.”

“It’s okay, Sarah. We’re leaving.”

Luke squirmed in my arms. “Daddy, I want to go to Mommy… please. Mommy, don’t leave me. Mommy… Mommy!”

I carried him away, ignoring his tearful pleas. In our room, I packed frantically while Luke peppered me with questions.

“Why are you crying, Daddy? Why can’t we go to Mommy?”

I knelt before him, taking his small hands in mine. How could I explain this? How do you tell a child that his mother chose to abandon him?

“Luke, I need you to be brave. Your mother did a very bad thing. She lied to us.”

His lower lip trembled. “She doesn’t love us anymore?”

The innocent question shattered what was left of my heart. I pulled him close, unable to hold back my tears. “I love you enough for both of us, buddy. Always. No matter what happens, you’ll always have me, okay?”

His tiny head nestled against my chest, a small nod followed by a deep sleep. His tears soaked through my shirt, leaving a damp, salty reminder of our shared grief.

One month later, I sat in my lawyer’s office and signed the final papers.

“Full custody and generous alimony,” she said. “Given the circumstances, Mrs. Stacey didn’t contest anything.”

I nodded, numb. “And the gag order?”

“In place. She can’t discuss the deception publicly without severe penalties.”

As I stood to leave, my lawyer touched my arm. “Abraham, off the record, I’ve never seen a case like this. How are you holding up?”

In the eyes of the law, I was no longer a widower. But in my heart, the woman I married was gone forever, leaving behind only a ghost of broken promises and shattered trust.

Two months later, I stood on our new balcony, watching Luke play in the backyard. We’d moved to a different city, a fresh start for both of us. It hadn’t been easy. Luke still had nightmares and still asked about his mom. But slowly, we were healing.

One day, my phone buzzed with a text from Stacey.

“Please, let me explain. I miss Luke so much. I’m feeling so lost. My boyfriend broke up with me. 😔🙏🏻“

As the sun set on another day, I hugged my son tight. “I love you, buddy,” I whispered.

He grinned up at me, his eyes shining with trust and love. “I love you too, Daddy!”

And in that moment, I knew we were going to be okay. It wouldn’t be easy, and there would be tough days ahead. But we had each other, and that’s what mattered most.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

I woke up again with a heavy weight on my chest as if a giant stone pinned me to the bed. I glanced at the clock. 7.45 a.m. If I didn’t get up now, I’d be late for work. Again.

Forcing myself to push through the oppressive feeling, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

The floor was a mess — clothes everywhere, clean and dirty jumbled together in careless heaps.

I grabbed whatever was closest, pulling on a wrinkled shirt and pants, then headed downstairs. My footsteps felt heavier with each step.

She didn’t even glance at me. She shouldn’t have to clean up after me, but here we were.

She had grown up too fast, taking on responsibilities no teenager should have. My chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t just the heaviness. It was guilt.

“Want me to make you breakfast?” I asked.

“No. I’m fine,” Sophie said, her tone sharp and distant. She didn’t even look up, busy zipping her backpack and grabbing a banana from the counter.

“Need a ride to school?” I asked, even though I knew what her answer would be.

I hesitated but followed her. “I just wanted to wish you a good day.”

“Right,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

As she opened the door, my eyes landed on the photo on the wall. Kira was smiling brightly, holding a little Sophie in her arms. They both looked so happy, so carefree.

I stared at the photo for a long time, then at the wedding ring still on my finger. “We miss you so much,” I whispered to Kira’s picture.

Before I could head back to the kitchen, my phone buzzed on the counter. It was a message from Mom.

@Mom:

Sophie has a debate competition tomorrow. It would be good if you came.

I stared at the screen for a moment. Mom had done so much for us this past year, stepping in when I couldn’t.

@Ethan:

She doesn’t want me there

@Mom:

She’ll appreciate it if you come.

I let out a heavy sigh. Tossing the phone into my pocket, I grabbed my work bag, headed to the door, and left.

“Ethan, good morning,” he said, his tone upbeat, as though he had good news to share. I gave him a quick nod and kept moving toward my desk, hoping he wouldn’t follow. He did.

“Remember we talked about bringing someone in to help with your workload?” he asked, keeping pace with me.

“Yeah,” I replied flatly. I didn’t care. More work, less work, it didn’t matter. I just wanted to bury myself in tasks, anything to stop thinking for a while.

“Well, we found someone great. Mark, come over here!” Mr. Harris called out, his voice cheerful.

Then I saw a hand extend toward me. I looked up reluctantly and froze. It was him.

My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Mark’s face mirrored my shock, and I saw fear flicker in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?!” I shouted, my voice loud enough to turn heads across the office.

“I… I didn’t know you worked here. I’m sorry,” he stammered.

Mr. Harris stepped in quickly, concern etched on his face. “What’s going on, Ethan? This is Mark, our new hire. He’ll be working with you.”

I shot him a glare. “I’m not working with him! I’m not even staying in the same building as him!” I turned to Mark, anger boiling over. “Get out!”

“I’ve been trying to find a way to apologize to you,” Mark said, his voice shaky, as if he’d been rehearsing this moment.

“Get. Out,” I repeated.

Mr. Harris stood his ground, his tone firm now. “Ethan, Mark works here. He’s not going anywhere.”

Outside, the cold air hit me, but it didn’t help. The memories came rushing in, relentless and vivid.

That night was burned into my mind, as clear as if it had just happened. I could still hear the piercing sound of sirens blaring, cutting through the darkness. The flashing red and blue lights lit up the street, making everything feel surreal.

Then I saw her. Kira was lying in the ambulance, motionless. Lifeless. My legs felt like they might give out.

Police officers were everywhere, shouting commands and directing traffic. Two cars were wrecked, smashed together like crumpled paper.

I remember someone saying, “It wasn’t drunk driving. Just reckless.”

As if that made it better. If it hadn’t been for Mark, Kira would still be here. If he hadn’t been so careless, everything would be different. Everything.

“I’m sorry,” a voice said, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned around and saw Mark standing there.

“Your apologies won’t bring my wife back!” I shouted, my voice sharp and full of rage.

“I regret that night every single day,” Mark replied. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the weight of his guilt.

“It should have been you. Not her,” I said.

“I know,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I wish it had been me too.”

“You took everything from me!” I yelled. My hands shook as the anger boiled over. “You destroyed my life! My daughter barely looks at me. She thinks I’m weak. She hates me because of you!”

“How dare you!” I spat, my fists clenched. “Kira should still be here!”

Mark took a deep breath. “The crash happened because I was rushing to the hospital,” he said, his voice trembling. “My wife was in labor. The delivery was complicated. I panicked. I lost control. After the crash, they told me… neither my wife nor my baby survived.”

His voice broke, and tears welled up in his eyes. “I know your pain,” he said softly.

“You don’t know anything!” I roared, the anger overwhelming me. “If you hadn’t been rushing, my wife would still be alive,” I added, the words cutting like a blade.

I stayed frozen, my breath shallow, my mind spinning. Deep down, I knew the truth. If I had been in his position, if it had been Kira or Sophie, I would have done the same. I would have driven just as fast.

Shaking my head, I forced myself to move. I got into my car and drove home, my chest heavy with the weight of everything I couldn’t undo.

The next day, I walked into the office without a word and sat at my desk. My eyes stayed fixed on the stack of papers in front of me.

Mark glanced at me from across the desk. His expression surprised me. It wasn’t angry or defensive. Instead, his eyes held a quiet compassion.

I buried myself in work, flipping through documents and typing nonstop. It was easier than thinking. Easier than feeling.

That evening, Mr. Harris dropped a stack of files on my desk. “I need these finished by morning,” he said. I gave a small nod and reached for the first folder.

Will you come to the debate?

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.

“What’s wrong?” Summer asked as she walked by, coat slung over her arm. She paused, looking genuinely curious.

“My daughter’s debate is tonight,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I have to finish all this work. I won’t make it.”

“That’s a shame,” Summer said, her tone soft. “She’d probably want you there.”

“She wouldn’t,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “She wouldn’t care if I showed up or not. She’s better off without me there.”

The office was quiet after she left. Then Mark spoke, his voice steady. “I’ll finish the work for you.”

I turned toward him, surprised. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’ll carry the guilt of that night for the rest of my life,” he said, meeting my eyes. “But you still have a chance to fix things with your daughter. Don’t waste it.”

Mark leaned forward slightly, his voice firm but calm. “You can’t save the dead, Ethan. But it’s never too late to save the living. Especially someone as precious as your daughter.”

I stared at him for a moment, then stood up slowly. He nodded, and I nodded back. Grabbing my jacket, I rushed out of the office.

I got to Sophie’s school as fast as I could, my heart racing the whole way. Pushing through the front doors, I followed the faint sound of voices to the auditorium.

I slipped inside quietly, scanning the stage. There she was, standing next to another student, her hands fidgeting nervously.

She looked frozen. It was like she couldn’t find the words. Then her eyes found mine. I smiled and gave a little wave.

Her face softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled back — a small, genuine smile. She lifted her hand in a quiet wave, and I felt something inside me shift. She looked so much like her mother.

If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Fifteen years of marriage felt unshakable — until the night my estranged sister, Megan, showed up at my door with nothing but a suitcase and a storm of secrets. What began as an unexpected reunion unraveled into betrayal, lies, and truths I never imagined. Because of that night, my world changed forever. Read the full story here.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.