I treated my grandma terribly.

My wife and I were itching for a getaway, right? But cash was tight, and grandma was willing to give me the shirt off her back. So, I lied to her, saying my wife needed some pricey surgery. Well, grandma sold her house ASAP and gave me EVERYTHING. And that’s not where we stopped. Next thing, my wife says it’s time for grandma to move out — we put her in a nursing home.

Soon, grandma passes away. My first thought is about the inheritance — grandma turns out to be rich. The lawyer gives me this envelope. MY WIFE AND I WERE HOPING FOR A CHECK! Inside, a note from her: “I knew you lied to me, honey.” What’s next there just KILLED ME. Here’s how it went.

The lawyer handed me the envelope with a solemn expression. My wife and I exchanged greedy glances, practically salivating over the thought of the fortune inside. I tore open the envelope, eager to see the check. But instead, I found a handwritten note in my grandmother’s elegant script.

“Dear Patrick,

I knew you lied to me, honey. The story about your wife’s surgery was a fabrication, and I saw through it. I may be old, but I’m not foolish. I gave you everything because I hoped it would open your eyes to what truly matters. But I see now that it was a mistake.

I spent my life saving and investing wisely, not for myself, but for my family. I wanted you to be happy and prosperous. But I also wanted you to be kind and generous. You failed me in that regard.

The nursing home you chose for me was a cold place, and though I missed my home, I still loved you. In my last days, I found solace in the friends I made there and the staff who cared for me. They showed me the compassion that you did not.

But, Patrick, my love for you never waned. That’s why, despite everything, I decided to give you one last chance. Enclosed in this envelope is a key — not to a safety deposit box full of money, but to a small cottage I bought years ago. It’s located in a quiet town where you and your wife can start anew, away from the greed that has consumed you.

However, this gift comes with a condition. You must live there for one year, during which you must volunteer at the local community center and help those in

This is your opportunity to redeem yourself, Patrick. Use it wisely. Prove that you can be the man I always believed you could be.

With love, Grandma”

I stood there, the key dangling from the envelope, my hands trembling. My wife looked at me, her face a mixture of shock and anger. She snatched the letter from my hands, scanning it quickly, her expression darkening with every word.

“She can’t be serious!” my wife exclaimed. “A year in some rundown cottage? Volunteering? This is insane!”

But deep down, I knew Grandma was right. Her words cut through me like a knife, revealing the ugliness of my actions. I had betrayed her trust and her love, and now I had to face the consequences.

I looked at my wife, seeing the same greed and disdain that had driven us to this point. Suddenly, the thought of the cottage — a simple, humble life — seemed like the only way to make amends, to honor the memory of the woman who had given me everything.

“Maybe we should do it,” I said quietly. “Maybe it’s time we changed.”

My wife stared at me in disbelief, but I could see the wheels turning in her mind. The promise of the rest of the estate was a powerful motivator, and slowly, she nodded.

“Fine,” she said begrudgingly. “But this better be worth it.”

As we left the lawyer’s office, the key to the cottage clutched in my hand, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Grandma’s final gift would be the salvation we desperately needed.