Money has often been called the root of all evil, but in truth, money itself is just paper. It doesn’t change people—it simply reveals who they truly are. When faced with large amounts of money, some people show kindness, while others show greed.
The following stories uncover three very different people and how they reacted when money entered the picture. One woman tried to take control of her husband’s life and wealth by kicking his son out of the house. Another person used money to mend broken family ties. And a third? Well, they went to extremes—faking their own death for insurance money. Keep reading to find out what happened in each case.
1. My Stepmom Tried Kicking Me Out—Only to Discover Something Shocking That Changed Everything
I was exhausted.
Balancing college classes during the day and working shifts at a gaming store at night wasn’t easy. I barely had time to breathe, let alone keep up with all the chores my stepmom, Karen, dumped on me. Honestly, I didn’t even need the job. My dad made enough money to support us. But Karen insisted, saying it would “teach him responsibility.”
I pushed the front door open and sighed. The second I stepped inside, Karen’s sharp voice cut through the air.
“Why are you late? You were supposed to clean today!”
I clenched my jaw, trying to stay calm. “I had a long day. I’ll clean tomorrow.”
Karen folded her arms, her lips curling in disapproval. “Tomorrow? That’s not how responsibility works, Marcus.”
I exhaled heavily. “You’re home all day. Is cleaning really that hard?”
Her face turned red in an instant. “How dare YOU speak to ME like that!” she snapped.
Just then, my dad walked into the room, looking between us. “What’s going on?”
“Marcus refuses to clean,” Karen declared, crossing her arms.
I shook my head. “I didn’t refuse! I said I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”
Dad sighed and glanced at Karen. “He’ll do it tomorrow. Let’s leave it at that.”
Relieved, I turned toward my room, but Dad stopped me. “Don’t go anywhere tonight, son. We have news to share.”
A bad feeling crept up my spine, but I nodded and went to my room.
Later that night, I dragged myself to the dining table, where a cold plate of leftovers waited for me. I picked at my food, feeling Karen and Dad’s eyes on me.
“So? What’s the big news?” I asked, glancing up.
Dad smiled, then exchanged a look with Karen. “We’re pregnant!”
I froze mid-bite. “Uh… congratulations,” I said, forcing a smile.
Dad looked thrilled, but Karen’s expression stayed cold.
Then, Dad’s smile faded as he cleared his throat. “Son… I don’t know how to say this, but—”
Karen cut in before he could finish. “Marcus, you need to move out.”
My stomach dropped. “What? Dad, what is she talking about?!”
Karen didn’t even blink. “The baby is coming, and we need space. We’re thinking of renovating. We can’t afford to have you in the way.”
I turned to Dad, my heart pounding. “Where am I supposed to go?! I’m a college student with a part-time job! I can’t afford rent! This is my home too! Dad, say something! Please!”
Dad shifted uncomfortably, looking at Karen, then back at me. But he said nothing.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I was on my own.
“You know what? You two can go to hell!” I yelled before storming off to my room, slamming the door behind me.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling abandoned. How could Dad let her do this? My thoughts were interrupted by muffled voices outside my door.
Dad spoke hesitantly. “Maybe he should stay until he finishes school…”
Karen’s voice was firm. “Tom, we’ve been over this. He has to go.”
I felt sick. Karen wasn’t just kicking me out—she was making sure I had nowhere to go.
A few minutes later, my door swung open without a knock. Karen stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “You have three days to figure it out.”
My hands balled into fists. “Three days?! I don’t have the money for a new place!”
She didn’t respond. She just turned and walked away.
Desperate, I grabbed my phone and dialed the one person I knew would help. “Grandma Rose? It’s Marcus,” I choked out.
“Marcus? What’s wrong, sweetheart?” her voice was filled with concern.
I spilled everything, barely holding back my tears.
After a brief silence, she said firmly, “Do nothing. I’ll be there soon.”
The next day, the front door swung open, and there stood my late grandmother’s sister—Grandma Rose. Her eyes were blazing with fury.
“Everyone to the living room. Now.”
Karen scoffed. “Excuse me? You can’t just barge in—”
But Grandma Rose ignored her. “How dare you throw a child out of his home?” she demanded.
“Marcus isn’t a child,” Karen spat back.
“Until he finishes school, he is,” Rose shot back. “But none of this matters. This is Marcus’s house. He isn’t going anywhere.”
I blinked, stunned. “What?”
Karen’s face twisted in confusion. “That’s ridiculous. This is our house!”
Grandma Rose let out a humorless laugh. “No, Karen. My late sister left this house to Marcus before she passed. It became his the moment he turned eighteen.”
The room fell silent. Karen’s face turned white.
And then, Grandma Rose smirked. “By the way, how’s that wine you were drinking? Odd for a pregnant woman.”
Karen gasped. “W-What? How do you know about that?!”
“I saw you this morning at the café with your friend,” Rose said smoothly.
Panic filled Karen’s eyes. “There is no baby!” she blurted, horrified by her slip-up.
Dad turned to her, his face pale. “You lied?”
Karen stammered, but Rose was done. “Pack your things and go.”
Within minutes, Karen was gone. Dad sat down, looking broken. “I’m sorry, son. I don’t know what came over me.”
I took a deep breath. For the first time in a long while, I felt safe.
I hugged Dad tightly.
Finally, I was home.
2. Hate Tore My Family Apart Until My Grandmother Brought Us Together One Last Time with a Great Revelation
The cold wind bit at my cheeks as Scott and I pulled up to Grandma Eleanor’s house. It was her 80th birthday, and for the first time in years, the whole family was gathering. But let’s be honest—we weren’t exactly a happy family. We hated each other. Scott parked the car, and as we stepped out, he grumbled, “I still don’t get why we’re here.”
“It’s Grandma’s birthday,” I reminded him, trying to keep my voice calm. “She’s the only truly kind person in this family, and she wanted us all together.”
He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I could be working right now. You know we need the money.”
“It’s one evening,” I said, instinctively patting my stomach. “Do you think they’ll notice?”
Scott chuckled, his eyes softening. “If I didn’t know, I wouldn’t notice. But what about telling your grandma?”
“Maybe at the end of the night,” I whispered, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.
As we walked toward the door, my brother Michael and his wife, Stacy, called out, “Hey! Wait up!”
Stacy hobbled in her heels, complaining loudly, “I can’t run in these!”
Scott and I exchanged a look, rolling our eyes. We both knew Stacy only stuck around for Michael’s money. She wasn’t exactly subtle about it.
Scott nudged me to press the doorbell. “Can we just get this over with?”
When Grandma Eleanor opened the door, her warm smile lit up the chilly evening. She hugged each of us tightly, her embrace feeling like home. Inside, the table was loaded with food—roast turkey, mashed potatoes, pies, and more. It was a feast fit for a king.
“Why did you make so much, Grandma?” I asked, touched by the effort she’d put in.
“Oh, I love doing this,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “It’s not every day I get to have my whole family together.”
As we settled in, Michael glanced around. “Mom’s not here yet?”
Grandma’s smile faltered slightly. “She’s not sure she can make it.”
“Typical,” I muttered under my breath. “She never has time for us.”
Michael shot me a glare. “Stop. She’s our mom.”
“Yeah? And she hasn’t wished me a happy birthday in years,” I snapped back, my frustration bubbling over.
Michael’s face hardened. “You act like you’re perfect, Camilla! She had her career as an actress to focus on!”
“And she put it before us every time because it’s the only thing she cared about!” I fired back, my voice rising.
Scott put a hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down. “Camilla, maybe just…”
I ignored him, my anger boiling over. “You only have those restaurants because Uncle handed them to you!”
Michael clenched his fists, his face red. “You’ve always been jealous of me, haven’t you?”
“Jealous of what? That you’re alone with a wife who’s only there for your money?”
“And you have it so good?” he sneered. “Your husband can barely hold a job, and how long have you been trying for kids… five, ten years?”
“Go to hell!” I shouted, standing up so fast my chair nearly toppled over.
“Enough!” Grandma Eleanor’s voice cut through the chaos like a knife. She stood, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “This is my birthday. I brought you here to celebrate… not to argue! And as for the inheritance…”
My head snapped toward her. “Inheritance?”
Eleanor’s voice was stern, her eyes sharp. “Your grandfather left something, and I have plans for it too. But I’m not leaving a penny to either of you until you prove you deserve it and earn my trust.”
“What?” Michael demanded, his voice rising. “How do we prove it?”
“Show me you deserve it,” she said quietly, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving us all stunned.
Needing air, I walked outside, my hands instinctively cradling my stomach. Michael followed, his footsteps heavy on the porch.
“So we might have an inheritance,” he said, glancing at me.
“If you hadn’t ruined things as usual,” I shot back, my voice bitter.
“Me?” He looked stunned. “You started it!”
“Michael, I need this inheritance. Scott and I…” I hesitated, my hand resting on my stomach.
He raised a brow, his expression softening slightly. “Why should I step aside? I need it too. Stacy’s about to leave if I don’t fix things at the restaurants.”
“Maybe she should,” I muttered, turning back toward the house. “I’m not giving up on this.”
Michael followed me back in, muttering under his breath, “Not fair, Camilla.”
I found Grandma in her room, sitting by the window. “Grandma, I’m sorry we ruined tonight. Let me help you with anything.”
She looked at me with a raised brow. “Is this how you think you’ll win an inheritance? Do you really need it, Camilla?”
I placed a hand on my stomach, my heart pounding. “Because…”
Just then, Michael burst in, interrupting. “Camilla’s lying about me, Grandma!”
“We weren’t even talking about you,” she said dryly, her tone sharp.
As we returned to the dining room, Mom finally arrived, swooping in with open arms. “My darlings!”
“Oh, Camilla,” she said, eyeing me critically, “have you gained weight?”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the table, biting my tongue. More bickering followed between my brother, me, and our mother as we tried to prove who deserved the inheritance most. The tension in the room was thick, and I could feel my stomach tightening with stress.
Then, suddenly, Grandma’s face turned pale. She clutched her chest, and we heard a loud thud as she collapsed to the floor.
“Grandma!” I screamed, rushing to her side. Then I clutched my stomach, a sharp pain shooting through me. “Call an ambulance!”
Scott rushed to my side, gripping my hand. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s starting,” I gasped, my breath coming in short bursts.
Scott’s eyes widened. “Labor?”
“Yes!” I shrieked, panic setting in.
Michael shouted, “You were pregnant?!”
Our mother’s eyes widened. “I’m going to be a grandma?!”
“Call 911!” I demanded, my voice shaking.
We’d become so estranged that I didn’t even want to tell them when I got pregnant. I didn’t want to bother because Mom would ignore her grandchild just like she ignored me. The madness in our family is why Scott and I moved far away. The only person I truly loved was my Nana. She was there for me all the time, the only light in this crazy family, and now she might be gone.
In the hospital, I refused to give birth until I knew about Eleanor. Scott pleaded, “Camilla, focus on the baby!”
After an agonizing hour, our baby girl was born. When I woke up, Michael entered the room, his face somber. That’s when I found out Grandma had passed away while I was in labor.
“We found a note addressed to the family in your grandmother’s belongings,” a nurse said as she handed it to us.
The note revealed that Nana had known I was pregnant. She’d left her whole inheritance to Scott and my child. She urged Michael to divorce his wife, who had opted to stay behind at the house. And lastly, she pleaded with our mom to do better for us and her grandchild.
Michael looked at me, his eyes filled with remorse. “I’m sorry for what I said, Camilla.”
Our mom looked guilty, her voice barely a whisper. “Could I… be a real grandma?”
“Maybe,” I said, holding my newborn close. For the first time in years, I felt like our family was turning a new leaf. I looked down at my baby girl and announced, “Her name is Eleanor.”
And in that moment, I knew Grandma’s love had brought us together one last time, giving us a chance to heal.
3. I Thought My Father Was Dead, Only to Find Out a Sinister Truth When We Tried Burying Him
The day of my father’s funeral was supposed to be the saddest day of my life. But it turned into something far more shocking—a day that would change everything I thought I knew about my dad.
I stepped out of the car, standing in front of the old, solemn church. The weight of losing my father hit me like a ton of bricks. My heart ached as I thought, “We couldn’t even give him a proper funeral.” Dad had died from a rare infection, and because of that, his casket had to be roped off. No one could see him one last time. No one could say a proper goodbye.
Just as I was lost in my thoughts, Bella, Dad’s loyal dog, started barking wildly from inside the car. She was usually calm and well-behaved, but not today. Her barks were sharp and frantic, like she was trying to tell me something.
“Bella!” I turned around, startled by her sudden outburst. She was pawing at the window, her eyes wide and desperate.
I tried to calm her down with a hand signal, and she lay back, but her eyes never left me. “Stay, Bella,” I whispered, giving her a gentle pat through the window. I could hear her whining as I walked away, but I had to go inside. The service was about to start.
Inside the church, the air was heavy with grief. Dad’s casket sat at the front, surrounded by flowers. I sat down next to my mother, who was quietly sobbing. The final hymn began to play, and that’s when chaos erupted.
Bella’s barking echoed through the church. I turned around, stunned, as she burst through the doors and leaped onto the casket! Flowers crashed to the floor as she barked and scratched at the lid like her life depended on it.
My heart raced. Something was wrong. I jumped to my feet. “Open the casket!” I shouted, my voice trembling.
People gasped and murmured, but I didn’t care. I rushed to the casket and threw it open myself. My stomach dropped. It was empty.
The entire church erupted in gasps and whispers. My mother’s knees gave out, and I barely caught her before she hit the floor. She fainted right there in my arms. I carried her out and rushed her to the hospital, my mind spinning. How could Dad’s body be missing? I kept asking myself over and over.
That night, I called the police. Detective Bradshaw arrived at my house, her face serious. “The coroner confirmed your father’s death and released the body to the funeral home,” she explained. “But, Mr. Hayes, could your father have been in some kind of trouble?”
I shook my head. Dad was a successful businessman who ran a dog training and rehabilitation center. He was a good man—or so I thought. He would never do anything to put our family in danger. But with no leads, Detective Bradshaw left, promising to look into it. I couldn’t just sit around and wait, though. I had to find answers.
Leaving Bella at home, I went to the morgue. At the front desk, a nurse told me, “The coroner resigned, and no replacement has been assigned.” When I asked for Dad’s file, she refused—until I slipped $1,000 onto the counter. She looked the other way as I entered the coroner’s office, but Dad’s file was gone. Vanished.
Frustrated and desperate, I went to Dad’s office. I opened his email, only to find every single message deleted. Just then, Dad’s lawyer, Mr. Stevens, walked in.
“Ryan,” he said, his voice heavy. “You’re the new CEO of the company.”
I was stunned. “What happened to Dad’s things here?” I asked, noticing two missing dancer figurines that had always been on his desk.
Mr. Stevens shook his head. “Your father supposedly took them home, though I don’t think he ever found the third one. The collector wants half a million for it.”
I knew the dancers weren’t at home—I’d searched the house thoroughly while packing up Dad’s things. But Stevens had more to say. He revealed that the company was in severe debt. Investors had been pulling out for months because Dad had been missing meetings.
Then he dropped a bombshell. “There’s something else you should know. I believe Arnold was having a relationship with his new secretary.”
My blood boiled, but I pushed my anger aside. I spent the day trying to calm the investors, but my mind was elsewhere. I needed to find Dad’s secretary, Miss Pearson. That evening, I followed her to her house. When she drove off, I snuck into her garage and made my way inside.
In her bedroom, I found a framed photo of her kissing my dad. My stomach churned. Then, on the coffee table, I found a manila envelope. Inside was Dad’s $7 million life insurance policy—with Miss Pearson as the sole beneficiary.
I couldn’t believe it. I drove straight to the police with the evidence. Hours later, they confirmed Miss Pearson was booked on a flight to Morocco—a country with no extradition treaty. Detective Bradshaw and her team rushed to the airport, but Miss Pearson was already gone.
I refused to give up. My last lead was the third dancer figurine. I tracked down the collector and paid an outrageous $750,000 for it. Then, I scheduled an auction, hoping Dad would hear about it and show up.
At the auction house, I watched from the shadows. The bidding started, and when it reached $1 million, a familiar voice called out. It was Dad. My heart pounded as I stepped out, blocking his way. Detective Bradshaw appeared, handcuffing him.
Dad glared at me. “Ryan? You set me up!”
I stared at him, my voice cold. “You faked your death to run off with your mistress, leaving us to grieve over an empty casket. You taught me a man should do what’s right, not follow his own selfish interests. I hope you remember that.”
Dad’s face fell as he confessed. He had faked his death for a new life with Miss Pearson. I felt a mix of anger and sadness as Detective Bradshaw assured me Miss Pearson wouldn’t get far. As they took Dad away, I knew he would finally face the consequences of his actions.
The man I had always looked up to was gone, replaced by a stranger who had betrayed us all. But I had done what was right, and that was all that mattered.
