At my grandmother’s funeral, I noticed my mother quietly slipping a small package into the coffin. Later, curiosity drove me to retrieve it. Inside were letters from Grandma, each revealing painful truths. She had discovered that my mother, driven by a gambling habit, had been secretly taking small amounts of money from her. The tone of Grandma’s letters shifted from concern to heartbreak, and in her final note, she declared that she was leaving her estate to me.
Among the letters was a recent one from my mother to Grandma—written after she had passed—boasting that she would manipulate me into handing over the inheritance. Stunned by the betrayal, I confronted her over coffee, giving her one letter with a warning: if she tried to deceive me, her secrets would be exposed.
I realized then that some lies are bound to resurface.
