70-year-old Agnes miraculously survives an attempt on her life, narrowly escaping with a broken leg. One night, while lying still in her bed, she notices her son-in-law sneaking into her room and approaching her bedside.
In the quiet of the night, a soft rustling stirred 70-year-old Agnes to be as cautious as a hawk on the hunt. She peered out from under her blanket at the shadowy figure of her son-in-law, Chris, rummaging through her nightstand.
Beads of sweat broke on Agnes’s forehead. She’d been waiting for this moment. With a flick of her wrist, she turned on the light.
“Caught you, you conniving scoundrel! Your unquenchable greed has finally unmasked you…Time to say goodbye to my daughter and surrender your freedom to the cops.”
“A-Agnes??” Chris stammered. A look of agitation and surprise washed over his face. “I thought you were…DEAD.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
A few months ago…
Agnes and her 45-year-old daughter, Grace, entered the Silver Grande Cafe to meet Chris, Grace’s boyfriend of six months.
“Hello, Mrs. Xavier. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Chris rose for a handshake.
Grace had told her Chris was 13 years her junior, but Agnes never thought he would be so charming. He was also oddly familiar. The trio sat down, and Agnes immediately started giving him the third degree.
“I recognize you… Have we crossed paths before?” Agnes asked.
“I don’t…think so.” Chris stared Agnes evenly in the eye.
“Oh, Mom! I’m sure you’re mistaken.” Grace pushed a plate of lobster toward Agnes. “It’s getting cold. Let’s eat.”
Dinner continued as awkwardly as could be expected and with much frustration on Agnes’s part. Every time she posed a question to Chris, Grace would chime in to answer. When the bill arrived, Agnes watched in disbelief as Grace took out her wallet to pay.
“So your beloved lady pays for your dinner, young man?” Agnes asked Chris.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Chris’s Grandpa left him a huge inheritance, but he can’t access it until the paperwork clears. He’ll have more than enough money to care for me then, okay?” Grace said, jumping to Chris’s defense yet again.
Flapping his blazer, Chris rose from his chair and hugged Grace. “Thanks for the dinner, darling. I have to give a presentation to an important client from Japan, and I’m already running late.”
Once Chris left the restaurant, Grace admonished her mother for being so rude to Chris.
“I don’t know how to sugarcoat things, Grace. I only know to ask in the face. Because I deserve to know the truth. Let’s go home now.” Agnes got up.
Grace hailed a taxi for her mother, saying she had to meet a friend in the theater. Grace stared idly out the cab window as the driver navigated traffic. Just as the taxi crossed a lane, Agnes noticed Chris entering a costume rental store with a bag in hand.
“Stop the car, driver!” Agnes instructed the cabbie, and the taxi came to a halt on the roadside.
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Agnes lowered the window. Her sharp eyes weren’t deceiving her; that was Chris! A few minutes later, he exited the store looking terrible. Gone was the crisp blue suit from dinner, replaced by shabby trousers, a faded hoodie, and badly scuffed shoes. This was definitely not suitable attire for an important business presentation!
Agnes could only assume he’d lied to her and Grace. She asked the cabbie to follow him, but moments later, Chris entered an alley with insufficient room for the car. She followed Chris on foot. Soon, Agnes realized she was in a shady neighborhood notorious for criminal activities.
She watched in disbelief as Chris slipped into a run-down house. She crept closer, careful not to be seen or caught, and peered through a cracked window.
Her jaw dropped when she saw a familiar picture of herself wearing a $400 000 diamond necklace that had been in her family for generations.
As she pondered where Chris got the photo, some dark memories rushed back, jolting Agnes like a thunderbolt.
“That’s why Chris seemed so familiar,” Agnes whispered.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
15 years ago, a young man named Larry, who looked exactly like Chris, had tried to steal the necklace. He claimed it was his family heirloom that was stolen by Agnes’s ancestors. A legal battle ensued, but Larry was eventually sent to prison, where he died in a fire.
Agnes remembered seeing Larry’s younger brother in the courtroom. In a flash, she realized that young man was Chris and that he must’ve sought Grace out so he could get revenge for his brother’s tragic death.
But Grace would never believe her without proof. With trembling fingers, Agnes aimed her phone’s camera at Chris’s living room. She accidentally triggered the flash while trying to click a picture of him staring at the photo of the necklace.
Chris spun round to face the window. Agnes fled. She watched Chris appear on the doorstep from her hiding spot behind a trash can. He looked up and down the street, then went back inside. Agnes sighed with relief. With her heart racing, she escaped from the alley and hailed a cab to take her home.
The following morning, Agnes rushed to her daughter’s apartment to save her and the family heirloom from Chris.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“Darling, I need to tell you something…it’s about Chris…last night I saw him going to this…”
Her voice trailed off when she saw Chris sitting on the couch with Grace. He looked up and smiled at Agnes.
“Mom, is everything okay?” Grace asked.
“We need to talk, Grace. And Chris, you need to hear this too.” Agnes settled down, her gaze fixed on Chris as she recounted everything that happened 15 years ago.
“Mrs. Xavier, you’re mistaken.” Chris shook his head. “I had no idea my brother had anything to do with your family necklace. I’m shocked myself. I was in the meeting, I swear. Not in some alley. Besides, If I wanted to rob Grace, why would I plan this?”
Chris reached into his pocket and removed a small velvet box. Agnes watched in disbelief as Chris got down on one knee and popped the question to Grace.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“But I have proof!” Agnes took out her phone to show the photo she’d taken. Although Chris’s face was visible, the photo of her and the necklace was hidden by a ball of light from the flash reflecting off the window.
Grace only had eyes for Chris. She forgot everything Agnes had just told her as he slipped the ring on her finger and kissed her.
Agnes was taken aback by the swiftness of the proposal. She suspected Chris knew she’d been snooping because of the phone’s flash and had orchestrated the proposal to divert Grace’s attention. Determined to thwart Chris’s plan, Agnes decided to act ahead of him.
“In that case, let’s do one thing,” she interrupted the couple. “Give me the family necklace, sweetheart, and there won’t be any more drama!”
Grace frowned. “The necklace is safe, and you gave it to me, remember? Why do you want it back now? I want to wear it for the wedding.”
“I loaned it to you, Grace, but it’s still mine. Wear something else for your wedding, not this necklace. Return it…now.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Chris watched Grace remove the necklace from a hidden vault in the fireplace in disbelief. His face contorted with concealed frustration.
“Here, take your necklace.” Grace angrily shoved the case into Agnes’s hand. “I don’t want it.”
“I’m very happy for you both. Congratulations!” Agnes bitterly replied as she tossed the jewel case into her handbag. She then approached Chris and whispered:
“We’ll continue to play your wicked game, Chris…as long as you don’t run away! You’ll never get your dirty hands on this necklace.”
Agnes assumed Chris would disappear once she’d secured the necklace, but two weeks later, he and Grace tied the knot at a picturesque resort perched above the shimmering sea.
Agnes was shocked that Chris had taken his act this far. She couldn’t figure out his next move, so she was very vigilant. She stepped outside for a breath of fresh air on the restaurant’s balcony, 30 meters above the crashing waves.
Chris suddenly spoke behind her.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“You know, Mrs. Xavier, you were right about the necklace!” Chris stared balefully at Agnes as he approached. “It rightfully belongs to my family. I’ll do whatever it takes to get it back.”
Agnes craned her neck to see behind Chris, only to realize they were alone. Even if she cried for help, the music in the party hall was too loud for anyone to hear her. Agnes was…trapped.
“What are you doing?!” Agnes stepped back. “Don’t come any closer. Stay right there.”
“You shouldn’t have meddled in my affairs,” Chris sneered. “Everything was going according to plan…until you followed me home. You thought I didn’t see that flash by the window? You’re an obstacle on my path. So why don’t you just…” He lunged toward her.
“Chris, stop! Please…No!” Agnes shouted in panic.
But it was too late. Chris grabbed her shoulders and pushed her. Agnes tried to grab the railing, but her fingers grasped at thin air. She plummeted toward the ocean.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
The next day…
Agnes’s eyes fluttered open. Everything ached as she craned her neck and saw her leg encased in a bulky cast. She was in a hospital bed.
“Mom, you’re awake!” Grace rushed to her, teary-eyed. “It’s a miracle you survived that fall with minimal injuries.”
“Chris pushed me, Grace,” Agnes said.
Grace’s expression shifted from relief to anger. She refused to believe her and ended up storming out of Agnes’s room in a fury. Grace’s stubborn denial gnawed at Agnes’s heart.
Then, a haunting realization gripped Agnes—Chris had the perfect opportunity to steal the necklace and escape forever.
She called the nurse and asked to be discharged, but the nurse refused. Once she left the ward, Agnes hatched an escape plan. She limped out of her bed, changed her clothes, then eased herself into a wheelchair. She wheeled down the hall and into the elevator.
A rush of anxiety and adrenaline washed over her as she escaped from the hospital and approached a taxi stand. At home, Agnes checked the safe and found the necklace intact. Chris hadn’t broken into her house yet, so she put out all the lights and crept into bed. She knew Chris would come for the necklace…and he did.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Back to the present…
“You survived that fall?” Chris scowled and cracked his knuckles. “Guess I’ll have to get my hands dirty and send you off on my own!”
He was advancing towards her when the bedroom door burst open. A squad of police officers surrounded Chris and arrested him. Grace rushed to her mother’s side when she heard the news and apologized for not believing her.
“The truth always finds its way out!” Agnes said.
Agnes hugged Grace as they prepared to leave for the hospital to continue Agnes’s treatment.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay
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During my grandfather’s funeral, a stranger gave me a note — I couldn’t help but laugh after reading it because Grandpa had played a trick on us
At Grandpa’s funeral, 18-year-old Dahlia feels isolated as her family fumes over the pitiful $1 inheritance. But when a stranger slips her a secret note, Dahlia is pulled into a mystery only she can solve.
I stood by the graveside, hands clenched in the pockets of my too-small black dress, listening to the priest’s droning voice blend with the rustle of the wind.
This was the saddest day of my life, but everyone else in the family seemed more concerned with glaring at each other than mourning Grandpa.
I could feel their bitterness lingering in the chilly October air, thick like syrup. One dollar each. That’s all Grandpa left us in his will, and they were furious. But me? I wasn’t angry. Just… hollow.
Grandpa wasn’t supposed to be gone. He was the only person who ever saw me, not the mess-up or the spare kid nobody paid attention to, but me. He let me in when no one else cared.
I stared down at the flowers resting on his coffin. I’d brought him a red rose, and it stood out among the white daisies everyone else had placed on the casket.
“One dollar,” Aunt Nancy hissed from behind me. “One damn dollar! That man was loaded, and this is what we get?”
Uncle Vic let out a bitter laugh. “Right? I swear he did it on purpose, the spiteful old man.”
“Typical Dad,” Mom muttered, crossing her arms tight across her chest. “He always played favorites, and Dahlia here was his little pet. Bet she got something we don’t know about.”
Aunt Nancy’s eyes cut toward me, sharp as glass. “What did he leave you, Dahlia? Anything? Don’t act like you didn’t get something.”
I stiffened. “I got the same as all of you.”
Mom’s fingers tightened over my shoulder. “Are you sure?” she asked in a low voice. “You were always with him. Maybe he told you something… think hard, Dahlia. You owe it to your family to share whatever he gave you.”
Memories came rushing back of Grandpa’s goofy stories about long-lost treasure and the butterscotch candies he always kept in his coat pocket.
Sometimes, he’d wink at me and say, “One day, kiddo, I’m leaving you a treasure. Real treasure!” But it was just a game, a joke between us.
I shook my head and turned my gaze back to the coffin. “What Grandpa gave me was his love, his stories, and a place that felt more like home than my actual home. Those things were worth more than money, and there’s no way I can—”
“Nobody cares about any of that!” Mom snapped. “Think, girl! What happened to all of his money?”
I shrugged. I truly didn’t know the answer to her question and didn’t care. Grandpa was gone. He was my confidant, my safe place, my friend. I’d lost the most important person in the world, but all they cared about was slapping a price tag on his death.
“She knows something,” Vic muttered, loud enough for me to hear.
Their voices twisted together, accusing, scheming — like they could squeeze secrets out of me if they tried hard enough. But I had no secrets that could earn them more money.
The second they realized there’d be no fortune, they turned away from the grave and stormed off. I could still hear them bickering as they walked away, lashing out at each other like vultures. It made me sick.
“You must be Dahlia.”
I looked up to see a woman, maybe in her 60s, with kind eyes and a worn leather bag slung over her shoulder. Her smile was soft and secretive, like she knew something the rest of us didn’t.
“I was a friend of your grandpa’s,” she said, leaning in as if we were co-conspirators. “He asked me to give you this.”
Before I could respond, she slipped a folded piece of paper into my hand and whispered, “Don’t let anyone see it, especially your family.”
Her presence felt surreal, almost dreamlike, and before I could say anything, she was gone, swallowed by the crowd of mourners. My heart pounded in my chest as I unfolded the note.
111 locker — Southern Railway Station.
For a second, I stood frozen, the words blurring in front of me. Then it hit me: Grandpa’s “treasure.” A laugh bubbled up from my throat, inappropriate and wild, but I couldn’t help it. He wasn’t joking after all.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The note was tucked under my pillow like a secret. Grandpa’s voice echoed in my mind, playful yet certain: “Locker number 111… There’s treasure in there, kiddo!”
A weight settled on my chest, something between grief and hope. What if this wasn’t just some wild goose chase? What if Grandpa had really left something for me, hidden away where no one else could reach?
The thought twisted around in my mind until I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to know what was in that locker.
I called a cab the next morning. It was the first thing I did after I woke up. As I tiptoed past the kitchen, I could hear Mom muttering on the phone about Grandpa’s will, probably trying to squeeze sympathy or cash out of anyone who would listen.
I clenched my jaw and slipped out the door, the chilly morning air hitting my skin like a slap.
The ride to Southern Railway Station felt like the longest 20 minutes of my life.
My knee bounced with nervous energy as the cab wound through narrow streets, past graffiti-covered walls, and empty coffee shops just starting to open. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror but didn’t say a word.
When we finally pulled up at the station, I stepped out and asked him to wait for me. I clutched the note tightly as I entered the train station.
The station smelled like diesel and stale popcorn. People rushed past me in every direction — commuters, travelers, strangers with places to go.
I hesitated at the entrance, suddenly feeling small and out of place. But then Grandpa’s voice floated back into my mind, steady and reassuring: “Real treasure, kiddo.”
I took a deep breath and headed toward the lockers and I could hear my heart pounding. Rows of metal boxes lined the wall, each one looking identical: gray, dented, and slightly rusty.
My eyes scanned the numbers until I found number 111.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded note. The key was taped to the back. With trembling fingers, I peeled it off and slid it into the lock.
For a second, it jammed, and I panicked. But then — click! The lock turned, and the door swung open.
Inside was a duffel bag. It was old, faded, and heavy. My hands shook as I pulled it out and unzipped it.
The bag was full of cash. Bundles upon bundles of it!
I gasped, my mind reeling. It couldn’t be real, could it? I reached in and pulled out a stack, flipping through crisp hundred-dollar bills. There had to be at least $150,000 in there.
And tucked inside the bag was another note, written in Grandpa’s messy scrawl:
For my beloved granddaughter, everything I saved is now yours. Take it and live free, kiddo. The rest of the family may not see your worth, but I’ve always believed in you.
Tears blurred my vision, and I hugged the note to my chest, a knot forming in my throat. This wasn’t just money. It was freedom — a way out.
Grandpa always knew how badly I needed to escape this family. And now, he’d given me exactly what I needed and tricked everyone else in the process!
I zipped the bag shut, slung it over my shoulder, and walked out of the station, my heart pounding in tune with my footsteps.
The early morning sun was just starting to peek through the clouds, casting everything in a soft, golden light. For the first time in years, I felt… light.
During the cab ride back, I stared out the window, watching the city come to life. I had options now. No more suffocating family dinners, no more being ignored or treated like an afterthought, no more being the family scapegoat.
I could leave. I could build something new.
The thought scared me as much as it excited me, but Grandpa’s voice echoed in the back of my mind: “Live free, kiddo.”
As the cab pulled up to my house, I made my decision. I wasn’t staying. Not another minute!
I didn’t even bother going inside. I pulled out my phone, booked a ticket to anywhere, and told the driver to head straight to the airport.
With the duffel bag in my lap and Grandpa’s note tucked safely in my pocket, I smiled for the first time in days.
I was free. And for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what that meant.
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