I gathered my family under one roof, hoping to spend time with them. But that night, I heard whispers behind closed doors—intrigues, secret plans, betrayal. So, I set new conditions for my inheritance that they couldn’t ignore.
I’ve always said that in old age, you have only two options: either you become a quiet, gentle grandmother who sits in a rocking chair, bakes cakes, and hands out sweets to her grandchildren, or you turn into a brilliant schemer who never lets her family rest for a single second. Without a doubt, I belonged to the second group.
I was 78 years old, wore designer coats, drank fresh juice in the morning, snowboarded whenever I wanted, and knew that even at this age, life could still be under control. The key was playing your cards right.
But lately, my children acted as if I didn’t exist. They never brought my grandchildren over, afraid that my influence might change their attitude toward their parents.
Meanwhile…
I shuffled my cards in the living room while my “girls” entertained me with their chatter, waiting to play bridge.
Dolly was once again talking about how her mysterious admirer kept leaving her flowers without a note.
“I can’t take it anymore!” She rolled her eyes and clutched her chest. “It’s unbearable! The man is playing a strange game!”
Margo, who had no patience for nonsense, scoffed.
“The same as last time?”
“Or maybe a different one! Maybe I’m a magnet for love!”
I flipped the cards in my hands and looked at Margo.
“You do know she orders them for herself, right?”
“Oh, of course,” she replied, setting down her coffee.
“Very funny!” Dolly shot me an offended look. “But just to be clear, this isn’t about me! Tell me, how are your children?”
I shrugged. “Alive and well. Theoretically. They remember me so rarely that I’m not even sure they still recall what I look like.”
“And Gregory?” Margo raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, ‘Mr. Grizzly’ is in his usual state. Sitting at home, grumbling about the injustices of life.”
I placed my cards on the table.
Margo chuckled while Dolly dropped another sugar cube into her coffee. “And Veronica, his wife?”
“‘Hashtag’?” I smirked. “She’s so busy curating the perfect life for social media that I’m not sure she even remembers how to hold a real conversation. But she’s the one keeping the family afloat with sponsorship deals. A man in a bathrobe while his wife is on stage—it’s a bit of an upside-down world.”
“And your daughter, Belinda?”
I hesitated.
“Belinda… well, as always, she’s working hard to make sure everyone’s life around her matches her idea of perfect order. No family, no kids, not even a hint of a relationship.”
Margo set her cards aside and gave me a sharp look.
“And your grandchildren? Mia, Theo?”
“‘Hon’ is probably somewhere barefoot in the mountains, explaining to the trees how to meditate properly. Instead of preparing for exams or at least going to parties, she’s completely immersed in her meditations.”
“She had a theory that objects have memory, didn’t she?”
“Oh, yes. And that they can hear us when we yell at them. I once scolded the microwave—it ignored me for a whole day.”
“And what about Scooter, your little detective?”
I smiled. “The only man in my family who still has any common sense.”
“Is he still a spy?”
“A spy. He conducts active investigations.”
“And what is he investigating?”
“The last thing I saw was him crawling under the couch with a magnifying glass. I don’t know if he’s collecting evidence or just trying to entertain me.”
“I love him!” Dolly theatrically placed her hands over her heart. “Does he know you’re his only ally?”
I sighed and reshuffled the cards. “He still thinks I’m the prime suspect.”
Margo leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes.
“Vivi, you’re up to something.”
“Oh, more than you think,” I said, spreading my cards before me. “If my children don’t notice me while I’m alive, then I have to make sure they can’t ignore me.”
I raised my glass of grapefruit juice. The bitter taste sent shivers down my spine.
I opened my mouth to say something else, but suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my chest.
My vision blurred, the room tilted, and Dolly let out a piercing scream:
“Call an ambulance! Now!”
⸻
I lay in a hospital bed, wrapped in a warm blanket, listening to the doctor explain something to my friends. His voice floated like a distant cloud.
“Her condition is stable, but at her age, she needs to be very careful,” he said, flipping through some papers.
Dolly stood beside me, dramatically clenching her hands together as if she were about to deliver tragic news to the world.
“She’s so active, Doctor!” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Will she… be able to continue living as before?”
“She needs rest. No strain, minimal stress. And, of course, she should have her family around.”
I noticed the look Margo exchanged with Dolly.
“We’re staying with you for the weekend,” Dolly announced, meeting my gaze as if daring me to argue.
“Just to make sure everything is truly under control,” Margo added.
“We need to call your family. They should be here with you. Who knows how much time—”
“Dolly, don’t exaggerate,” I said, giving her a sharp look.
But something in her words made me pause. My condition required attention. But not medical attention. Family attention. If it had been up to them, they wouldn’t have even checked if I was still breathing when I was brought in. But at this moment… well, I could remind them who I was.
“You’re right,” I murmured. “I need them here.”
Dolly clapped her hands together. “Oh, finally, you admit it!”
Margo nodded approvingly.
“We’ll do this: we’ll send them messages ourselves. If you ask both your children at once, they’ll assume you’re exaggerating. So, we’ll send each of them a separate message.”
Dolly dramatically raised a finger. “And we tell them to pack for a month! Just in case…”
I gave her a long, skeptical look. “Dolly, you’re enjoying this far more than you should.”
“I’m just a dramatic woman, what can I say?”
Margo was already holding up her phone.
“Belinda, I just got back from the hospital. My condition is very unstable. I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m scared. Please come. I need you here.”
I nodded in approval.
“Now Gregory,” Dolly said, already typing.
I glanced at the message she had written. A small, satisfied smile crept onto my lips.
“Perfect.”
My family was already on their way. And they had no idea what awaited them.
After all, the fact that Emily was the granddaughter of the previous owner of the mansion, and not just an ordinary guest, radically changed the situation.
Lawyers began working on the case, reviewing all the documents related to the inheritance. The mansion rightfully belonged to Emily, and no one had the right to sell it without her knowledge.
When this truth came to light, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson found themselves in a very difficult situation. Their attempts to take possession of the property turned against them. Moreover, it turned out that Emily’s grandfather had left her not only the mansion but also a considerable sum of money, which her aunt had hidden all these years.
Realizing this, Emily felt both relief and sadness. She did not expect such a betrayal from her own relatives. But now, she had the opportunity to start a new life, restore the mansion, and perhaps, turn it into something special—a place filled with warmth and kindness, not deception and greed.
When Emily finally stepped into the house as its rightful owner, she felt that she was not alone. The spirit of her grandfather, his love, and his care still lived in these walls. And now, she would make sure that his legacy was not lost but preserved and multiplied for future generations.
