1. “There’s Something Inside!” Boy Cries After Sitting on Old Sofa Late Granny Left Him
It was an old, worn-out sofa that Granny had left me. When the movers dropped it off, it thudded heavily on the floor. The dust from years of use filled the air, and as I ran my hand across the faded fabric, I could see the dark stain I had caused when I spilled juice years ago. Granny never cared about that. What mattered was that she’d refill my drink with a smile, never complaining.
“I’ll miss you, Granny,” I whispered softly to myself, trying not to let the tears fall.
My dad, Ronny, stood nearby, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
“Why are you mourning someone who left you nothing but this junk?” he sneered, his voice cold.
“This isn’t junk,” I shot back, my voice firm. “It’s a memory of her. I can work and earn money, but I can’t make more memories with Granny.”
Dad snorted. “The same Granny who gave you away to another family after your mom died? She always wanted to take you away from me.”
I felt a pang of guilt. He was right. Granny had asked me to live with another family because she was worried about me, but it wasn’t because she didn’t care. It was because she loved me.
“But those people are nice,” I explained, trying to ease the tension. “They let me stay here for a few days because of her funeral.”
Dad didn’t even look at me. Instead, he flopped down in his armchair with a grunt, showing he didn’t care what I said about Granny.
Sighing, I sat down on the sofa, my body sinking into the cushions. But then, something hard jabbed into my back.
“There’s something inside!” I cried, my voice a mix of curiosity and excitement.
Dad didn’t even glance my way, too busy with his TV show.
I pulled off the seat cushion and, beneath it, found a flap of fabric. I tugged it open, revealing a small, taped-up box. The words “For Kevin” were scrawled across the top. My heart skipped a beat. Granny’s handwriting. I trembled as I opened it, revealing a letter and a bundle of papers.
Dearest Kevin,
“I’m sorry to pressure you while you’re so young, but your well-being and your future depend on you making a smart choice now. You need to know that your father has his eyes on his share of the inheritance. I’ll explain everything, and then you must decide if he’s worthy of your love.”
As I read the letter, I felt my stomach tighten. It reminded me of what had happened months ago…
A Few Months Ago…
I had just come home from school to find Granny standing at the door of the apartment Dad called home. She was arguing with him.
“I send you money every month for his soccer club! What have you done with it?” Granny’s voice was loud with frustration.
Dad was defensive, but whatever he said only made her more upset. Granny had always worried about me, about my future. And a few weeks after that, she told me I’d be staying with Denise, her nurse, and her husband, Miguel.
“They’ll take good care of you,” Granny said. “And they’ll even let you visit me sometimes. I’m sure you’ll be happy there.”
It hadn’t been that bad. Denise and Miguel were kind, and they even signed me up for a soccer club. But I never expected Granny to pass away so soon.
Back to Present…
I refocused on the letter in my hands.
“…I devised a way for you to uncover your father’s true character. The legal papers in this box explain an agreement that will allow Ronny to inherit all of my money, but only if he stays away from you. If he destroys the papers, you’ll know he values you more than money. But if he takes them to a lawyer… well, you’ll have a safe and loving home with Denise and Miguel.”
I folded the letter and looked at Dad, who was still absorbed in his show.
Should I really test him? I wondered.
Taking a deep breath, I picked up the documents and handed them to him.
“Dad, I found this in Granny’s old sofa. I think it’s for you.”
He grabbed the papers eagerly, his eyes lighting up. Without even looking at me, he grabbed his jacket and rushed for the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked, following him.
“Out. Grown-up stuff. Stay here,” he mumbled, not even slowing down.
I followed him down the street and watched as he entered a building with a sign that said, “Lawyer’s Office.”
My heart sank. Granny had been right. Dad cared more about money than me.
I returned to the apartment and knocked on our kind neighbor Tina’s door. A few minutes later, I was on the phone with Denise and Miguel, who came to pick me up soon after.
That night, I stayed with them, and I haven’t seen my dad since. It’s been three years now, and I’ve never been happier. I’m so lucky to have had Granny who loved me so much, even from beyond the grave.
2. I Inherited Grandma’s Old Clocks & My Greedy Brother Got the House
I had always adored my Grandma Marlene. Until a year ago, I lived with her in her cozy little house filled with clocks that ticked away through the day and night. Each clock told a story, and Grandma was always the one to tell it. She was my rock, my biggest fan, and my safe haven.
But last year, I had to leave for college.
One evening, I received a call from her. Her voice was weak, frail.
“Linda, sweetheart, could you come over? I don’t think I have much time left,” she whispered.
I froze, my heart sinking. “Oh, Granny, don’t say that! I’ll be there as soon as I can, don’t worry.”
When I arrived at her house three days later, my older brother, Brian, was already there. He was always a bit harsh, quick with his words and judgment.
I rushed over to hug her, feeling a heavy ache in my chest.
“I’m here, Grandma,” I whispered, trying to fight back tears.
She smiled at me, her tired eyes lighting up. “Oh, my sweet girl,” she murmured.
Brian, however, stood back and frowned. “You could at least keep this place clean, Grandma. It’s so dusty,” he grumbled, brushing off his sleeve as if it would get dirty just being near her.
I rolled my eyes. Grandma needed love, not criticism. But I didn’t say anything to Brian. I didn’t want to upset Grandma more than she already was.
A few moments later, she handed us each an envelope.
Inside, there was $5,000.
“Linda, Brian, I wanted to give you both something,” her voice trembled as she spoke.
I took her hand, shaking my head. “Granny, you didn’t have to do this. I’m here to be with you, not for money.”
Brian, however, wasn’t so gracious. “Is this it? Really?” he sneered, his face contorted with displeasure.
Before Grandma could say anything else, he stormed outside, slamming the door.
I stayed by Grandma’s side, caring for her, fixing things in the house that had been neglected for years. I cooked, cleaned, and made sure she had fresh food to eat.
“You don’t have to do so much, Linda,” she said, her voice full of concern as I patched up a leak in the kitchen. “I don’t want to take up all your time.”
I smiled and held her hand. “Grandma, I know how much you wanted Grandpa’s house to feel like home again. I saved up a little, and I thought, why not? Is this better now, Grandma?”
“Oh, Linda,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Yes, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Then, early one morning, I found her peacefully passed away in her sleep. The house felt empty without her laughter and warmth.
Brian didn’t even show up for the funeral. It hurt me, but I focused on honoring Grandma’s memory instead.
Two weeks later, we went to the lawyer’s office for the reading of her will. Brian and I sat in silence as the lawyer started.
“Brian, you have been left the house,” the lawyer said, handing him the key. Brian smiled smugly, clearly pleased. He’d always wanted that house.
Then the lawyer turned to me. “Linda, your grandmother left you her clocks.”
“The clocks?” I asked, my voice soft. I felt a mix of confusion and disappointment.
The lawyer handed me five old, rusted clocks, each one looking dull and unremarkable. Brian snickered, clearly not impressed.
But then the lawyer handed me an envelope.
“Your grandmother loved you more than anyone, Linda,” he said, his voice gentle.
Inside the envelope was a note in Grandma’s handwriting:
Linda, never underestimate these rusty old clocks!
They are 100-year-old classic timepieces that belonged to your grandfather. Each one is made from rare metals and worth about $40,000!
Everyone gets what they deserve, my dear. I’m so glad you got only the best.
With all my love, Granny Marlene.
I stared at the letter in shock, my heart racing.
“She left nearly $200,000 hidden in these seemingly worn-out clocks,” the lawyer smiled.
Brian’s face drained of color. “What? Those things are worth that much?”
I smiled through my tears. “Yes, Brian. Grandma knew exactly what she was doing.”
I carefully picked up one of the clocks, feeling its weight in my hands. It was like holding a piece of Grandma’s love, still ticking in my heart.
Thank you, Grandma, I thought as I walked out of the office. Thank you for leaving me something so precious.
3. Granddad’s Forbidden Mattress and the Shocking Secret Inside
When my grandfather passed away, I was left with only one thing from him—an old house. After losing my parents in a car accident when I was just four, Grandpa had become everything to me. He was my father, my mother, and my best friend all in one. I couldn’t imagine life without him, and now I had to face the world without his comforting presence.
The house felt cold and empty without him. But as I wandered through the old rooms, memories flooded back. The smell of his cologne, the way he would laugh, and the little things he would say to make me feel safe. I paused in front of his bedroom, memories of him tucking me in at night swirling in my mind. But there was one thing I could never forget about Grandpa’s room: his mattress.
For as long as I could remember, Grandpa had always told me that no one could touch his mattress.
“Don’t you dare, young lady,” he’d say, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s got secrets.”
I used to laugh and think he was just joking, but now, after his death, those words seemed to hang in the air, more important than ever. What was he hiding under that mattress all these years?
Curiosity overwhelmed me. I couldn’t help myself. I walked over to the bed, my heart racing. I lifted the heavy mattress, and to my shock, I found something hidden underneath it. My breath caught as I saw a leather-bound diary, an old envelope, a stack of faded photographs, and some yellowed newspaper clippings. What was this?
With trembling hands, I opened the envelope first, pulling out a few papers. I immediately recognized Grandpa’s handwriting. I held my breath as I read the first line of the diary.
“I can’t let Brooke live her life not knowing the truth about her parents.”
I froze. My name. The truth about my parents? What did he mean by that? I couldn’t stop myself. I flipped through the pages, reading faster now, trying to understand what Grandpa had been hiding.
The diary revealed something I couldn’t have imagined. Grandpa had spent years investigating the car accident that took my parents’ lives. He had always believed it wasn’t an accident at all. According to his notes, there was a cover-up involving a drunk driver named Mr. Johnson and a corrupt police officer named Parker, who had let Mr. Johnson off the hook.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. The truth was worse than I could have ever imagined. Grandpa had known the truth all along and had kept it hidden for me, hoping I would be able to handle it one day. Now, that day had come. I had to finish what he had started.
The next morning, I walked into the local newspaper office, clutching the evidence in my hands. The editor, Frank, barely looked up when I entered.
“We hear all kinds of wild stories,” Frank muttered, barely glancing at me. “I’m sure you’ve got something similar.”
“This is different,” I said, voice steady, placing the photos and clippings in front of him. “This is about my parents’ deaths and a cover-up with the police department. Are you ready to hear the truth?”
Frank looked at the photos, his expression changing from dismissive to intrigued. He leaned forward, studying the evidence carefully.
“This is explosive,” he admitted, his voice low. “But are you ready for what this will bring? People will come after you.”
“I’ve spent my whole life wondering why my parents died,” I said, determination in my voice. “Now that I know the truth, I’m not backing down. I’m ready for whatever comes next.”
When the story hit the front page of the paper, it was like a bomb had gone off. The town was in an uproar. Protesters gathered outside the police station and at Mr. Johnson’s mansion. People were angry, demanding justice for what had been done. The case was reopened, and Officer Parker, under the pressure of the investigation, finally cracked.
“We were pressured by the Johnson family,” Officer Parker confessed. “They wanted the whole thing buried. They told us to make it go away.”
Months later, the trial was a media frenzy. I had to testify, standing in front of a crowded courtroom with all eyes on me. My voice trembled, but I spoke with everything I had. I knew I had to do this, not just for my parents, but for Grandpa too. When the jury returned their verdict, relief washed over me. Justice had been served.
A few days later, I stood in front of Grandpa’s grave, the weight of everything still heavy on my heart. I placed a single flower on his tombstone, my hands trembling.
“We did it, Grandpa,” I whispered, tears welling up. “Thank you for never giving up. Thank you for showing me the truth and for everything you did. I’ll always carry your legacy with me.”
As I stood there, I felt a sense of peace. Grandpa’s secret had been uncovered, and now, finally, I understood the full story. It wasn’t just about my parents anymore—it was about everything he had done to protect me. I wasn’t alone anymore. I had the truth, and that was enough.
