When Grandma passed away, my relatives rushed to her house, desperate to get their hands on her will. I was the only one who took her old dog home, unaware that she carried more than just memories of Grandma. Days later, I uncovered the secret Grandma had hidden where no one else would even think to look.
I stood at the cemetery, watching as Grandma was lowered into the earth.
I held Berta’s leash tightly, and she strained forward, as if wanting to follow Grandma down.
Berta had been Grandma’s companion. She’d bought her when I was little, and, as Grandma often said, Berta was her closest friend—perhaps the only one she could truly trust.
Grandma was a good person, though particular in her ways.
She had earned a great deal of money during her life but never gave a cent to her children or grandchildren.
Instead, she invested in their education. She believed that everyone should rise on their own, just as she had.
Because of that, neither my mom, nor my uncle and aunt, nor their children spoke to Grandma—or even mentioned her—until that day.
I studied each face around me. I knew why they were really here. Money.
They hoped that after Grandma’s death, they’d finally inherit something. But knowing her, it wouldn’t be that simple.
During the last six months of her life, Grandma had been very ill, and I had moved in to care for her.
Juggling that with my job as a nurse wasn’t easy, but I managed.
I knew Grandma appreciated that someone had stayed with her through those hard days.
But she hadn’t made life easy for me either. I remembered one day when a massive bill arrived for a car repair.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to pay for this,” I said.
“You’re strong. You’ll manage,” Grandma replied.
Of course, I hadn’t expected anything else. She never made exceptions, even for me. But she supported me, guided me—and I was grateful for that.
After the funeral, everyone went to Grandma’s house for the reading of the will. Knowing my family, I had packed all my things beforehand.
I knew they wouldn’t allow me to stay. While waiting for the lawyer, nobody spoke, only exchanging cold, hostile glances.
Then Aunt Florence, probably bored, turned to me. “Meredith, remind me, what kind of doctor are you?” she asked.
“I’m a nurse,” I said.
“A nurse?” Uncle Jack repeated, shocked. “You won’t make money that way. Tom has a car company, and Alice owns several beauty salons,” he added, pointing at my cousins sitting with their noses in the air.
“I help people. That’s enough for me,” I replied.
“I can’t believe I gave birth to her,” Mom muttered.
I spoke to her only three times a year—on my birthday, her birthday, and Christmas, always by phone.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. When no one moved, I opened it myself.
Standing there was Mr. Johnson, the lawyer handling Grandma’s will. I led him into the living room, where my family sat in tense silence.
He remained standing at the doorway, politely refusing my offer to sit.
“I won’t take much of your time,” he said calmly. “There isn’t much to discuss.”
“What do you mean, not much to discuss? What about the will?” Mom asked, annoyed.
“She must have left something to someone,” Uncle Jack said impatiently.
“It seems Cassandra didn’t think so,” Mr. Johnson replied dryly.
“What do you mean?” Aunt Florence asked.
“None of you will inherit anything from Cassandra,” Mr. Johnson said flatly.
The room erupted in shocked gasps.
“How is that possible?! We’re her family! Who gets the money and the house?!” Mom shouted.
“I’m afraid I can’t share that,” Mr. Johnson said. “Now, I must ask all of you to leave.”
But nobody moved.
“That old witch!” Uncle Jack shouted. “I knew she didn’t care about us, but not a penny?!”
“Don’t say that,” I interjected. “Grandma cared. She just showed it in her own way.”
“Yeah, right,” Mom muttered. “She was a witch in life, and she’s still one now.”
At that moment, Berta barked loudly.
“Oh right, and what are we going to do with that dog?” Aunt Florence asked.
“Put her down,” Mom said coldly.
“I agree,” Uncle Jack added. “She’s ancient anyway.”
“You can’t put her down!” I shouted.
“And what are we supposed to do? Better than tossing her on the street,” Mom replied.
“Grandma loved Berta. Someone has to take her,” I said.
The room erupted in bitter laughter.
“If you want her, then take her,” Mom said. “Our mother didn’t care about us. Why should we care about her dog?”
“I can’t. My lease forbids pets,” I said quietly.
“Then it’s settled. We’ll put her down,” Uncle Jack said firmly.
“Tom? Alice?” I looked to my cousins, desperate.
Tom waved me off. Alice shook her head. “No way. I’m not bringing a flea-ridden animal home,” she said.
I exhaled heavily. “Fine. I’ll take Berta,” I said.
Mr. Johnson cleared his throat. “Please leave the house. You no longer have the right to be here,” he said.
“And who does have that right?!” Mom shouted. “We grew up here!”
“Please, don’t make me call the police,” Mr. Johnson warned.
Grumbling, they gathered their things and left. I packed Berta’s belongings, helped her into the car, and drove back to my apartment.
I was relieved when my landlord allowed me to keep her temporarily, though he raised the rent slightly.
I had prepared for the possibility of ending up on the street.
Berta missed Grandma as much as I did. Grandma had been the only one who truly supported me—paying for my education, asking about my work, celebrating every patient who recovered. I missed her terribly.
One night after a hospital shift, there was a knock at the door.
I opened it and froze—my mother was standing there.
“Mom? What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I know you have it!” she shouted.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, surprised.
“I know you inherited everything from Grandma!” she screamed.
“All I inherited was Berta,” I said.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Berta. Grandma’s dog,” I clarified.
“Don’t lie!” my mother yelled. “You lived with her six months. She must have left everything to you! You were always her favourite granddaughter,” she added, overemphasizing the last line.
“Grandma didn’t give me money, just like she didn’t give any to you,” I said.
“Liar!” my mother screamed. “Where is it? I gave birth to you! You owe me!”
“I have nothing!” I cried, tears streaming down my face.
“We’ll see about that, witch!” my mother spat before leaving.
I sank to the floor, unable to stop crying. Berta climbed into my lap, trying to comfort me.
As I stroked her, something on her collar caught my eye. I removed the collar and turned it over.
An engraved address and the number 153 were on the back. I frowned and entered it into my GPS.
It led to the train station, with 153 appearing to be a locker number. But where was the key?
Then I noticed the tag could be opened. Inside, a small key fell into my hand.
Without hesitation, I went straight to the station, found locker 153, and tried the key. It fit.
Inside was a folder marked “For Meredith.” I opened it and pulled out a note and some documents in Grandma’s handwriting.
I decided to leave everything I had earned in my life to a person with a pure heart who would not exploit others. Everything I owned will go to the person who agreed to care for Berta. And I am certain that person would be you, Meredith. You are the only one left in our family who still shows decency. You deserve the best. With love, your Grandma.
I read the note, then examined the documents—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. “I swear, I didn’t know anything,” I said.
“So she really left everything to Meredith,” Uncle Jack appeared, as if from nowhere.
“What are you doing here?!” my mother shouted.
“You didn’t think you were the clever one, sister. I hired a private detective to follow Meredith,” Uncle Jack said. “Now, Meredith, be a dear and hand over the will.”
“No! You’re my daughter! Give it to me!” my mother screamed.
“Meredith will give it to no one,” Mr. Johnson said firmly.
“And where do you come from?!” Uncle Jack barked.
“The sensor on my phone alerted me when the locker opened,” Mr. Johnson explained. “Since I execute Cassandra’s will, I came immediately.”
“I don’t care! I’m Meredith’s mother! I have rights!” my mother insisted.
“Cassandra’s estate goes to whoever cared for Berta. That was not you,” Mr. Johnson said calmly.
“I’ll take that flea-ridden dog if I must!” Uncle Jack shouted.
“It’s too late. Meredith took Berta unaware she would inherit anything. That was the main condition. Anyone who interferes will deal with me and the police,” Mr. Johnson said.
I held the folder, hands trembling, speechless.
“Come on, Meredith, we have a lot to discuss,” Mr. Johnson said, and we walked to my car.
“Why did she do this? Make everyone fight?” I asked.
“She wanted her money to go to a good person who would use it for good,” Mr. Johnson said.
I nodded. “Then I’ll give the larger portion to the hospital,” I said.
“It’s yours now. Do what you will,” Mr. Johnson replied.
In that moment, I missed Grandma more than ever—but I knew I would not let her down.