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.
I Met a Man at a Speed Dating Event – When I Showed His Photo to My Mom, She Instantly Contacted the Police
After a fun night of speed dating, I showed my mom a photo of the guy I met. She freaked out and immediately called 911. I was shaken, but what I discovered the next day when things got really wild left me gasping for air.
My palms were sweating as I smoothed down my dress for the hundredth time. The restaurant’s dim lighting couldn’t hide the anxiety radiating from the other speed daters around me. At 30, I never thought I’d be here, but my best friend Lily’s persistent nagging had finally worn me down.
“You’ve got this, Selena,” I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath. The bitter scent of wine and the soft clink of glasses filled the air, doing little to calm my nerves.
The bell rang with a shrill sound that made me jump. It signaled the start of our first round.
I plastered on my best smile as a tall, dark-haired man slid into the seat across from me. My breath hitched as our eyes met.
“Hi, I’m Robin.”
I felt an instant spark, like electricity coursing through my veins. “Selena. Nice to meet you.”
I found myself leaning in as we chatted, captivated by his stories and wit. He spoke of his work as a software engineer, his love for rock climbing, and his dreams of traveling the world.
With each word, I felt myself falling deeper under his spell.
When the bell rang again, Robin stood up, hesitation brimming in his eyes as he gripped the back of the chair.
“Listen, I know this is unconventional, but would you like to grab a coffee after this? I’d love to continue our conversation.”
My cheeks flushed, and my heart raced. “I’d really like that. Tomorrow? I said, feeling the heat creep into my cheeks as he kissed the back of my hand.
“Sure! Will be waiting for you in the café downtown!”
As we left the restaurant later that night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life was about to change forever.
The next afternoon, I couldn’t stop smiling as I recounted my evening to my mom, Daisy.
“He sounds wonderful, honey,” she said, her eyes crinkling with happiness. “I haven’t seen you this excited about someone in years.”
“I know, Mom. There’s just something about Robin. It’s like… like I’ve known him my whole life.”
“Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. But I am happy for you. Do you have a picture?”
“Oh! Yeah, we took a selfie.” I pulled out my phone, swiping to find the photo. My heart fluttered as I looked at Robin’s smiling face. “Here he is!”
The moment I turned the screen towards her, Mom’s face turned pale.
“Mom? What’s wrong?” I freaked out.
Her eyes were wide with panic, fixed on the phone screen. “Selena, oh my God… it’s HIM. The man who robbed my friend Janet! CALL THE POLICE RIGHT NOW!”
“What? No, that can’t be right.” I shook my head, confusion and disbelief warring inside me.
“I’m telling you, it’s him! He conned Janet out of her life savings. Promised to marry her, took every penny she had, and then vanished! We need to call the police right now, honey!”
My stomach dropped, a cold dread seeping into my bones. “Are you sure?” I asked, desperately hoping she was mistaken.
“Positive. Janet showed me his picture a hundred times when we were trying to track him down. I’d never forget that face.”
I stared at Robin’s smiling face on my phone, feeling sick. The warm brown eyes that had seemed so kind now looked calculating. The charming smile now seemed sinister. How could I have been so blind?
Mom reached for her phone, her fingers shaking as she started to dial 911. Without thinking, I grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Mom, wait!”
“What do you mean, wait? We need to turn him in!”
“If we call now, he might get spooked and disappear again,” I said slowly, a plan forming in my mind. “But, what if we set a trap?”
Mom’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you thinking?”
“I have a date with him tomorrow night. What if I go, act normal, and you call the police to meet us there?”
She hesitated, worry etching lines across her forehead. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him. He’s dangerous, Selena.”
“It’ll be in a public place, Mom,” I assured her, even as my heart raced at the thought. “And think about it. This might be our only chance to catch him. To get justice for Janet and who knows how many others.”
After a long moment, she nodded, fear still lingering in her eyes.
As we began to plot our plan, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was balancing on a knife’s edge. One wrong move and everything could come crashing down.
The next evening, I sat across from Robin at a cozy café, my nerves on edge. He looked as handsome as ever in a blue shirt that brought out his eyes.
But now, his charming smile made my skin crawl. Every compliment and every gentle touch of his hand on mine felt like a lie.
“You look beautiful!” Robin said, reaching for my hand across the table.
I forced myself not to flinch away, plastering on a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Thank you. You look nice too.”
As he launched into a story about his day, I discreetly texted Mom under the table, “Now!”
“So, tell me more about your family,” I said, desperate to keep the conversation going.
A shadow seemed to pass over Robin’s face so quickly that I almost missed it. “It’s complicated,” he said after a moment.
Before I could probe further, I saw two uniformed officers enter the café.
They approached our table, and Robin’s easy smile faltered. “Is there a problem, officers?” he asked, his eyes darting between them and me.
One of them stepped forward, his hand resting on his belt. “Sir, we need you to come with us for questioning.”
“Selena, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Robin. But we know what you did to Janet. And probably to countless other women.”
I thought this was it. But what happened next left me reeling.
After a tense conversation with the officers, during which Robin vehemently denied knowing any Janet, they released him. And he walked back to our table.
“Selena, I don’t understand. Who’s Janet? What’s this all about?”
I blinked, utterly lost. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be led away in handcuffs, not standing here looking at me like I’d betrayed him.
“The woman you conned. My mom’s friend. You… you took everything from her.”
Robin shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve never met anyone named Janet in my life. But, wait a minute, I think I know what happened here.”
He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. After a moment, he turned it towards me. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.
The photo showed two identical men — Robin, and another who could have been his clone. Same eyes, smile, and same everything.
But while Robin looked relaxed and happy in the photo, his double had an edge to him, a hardness in his eyes that sent a chill down my spine.
“That’s my twin brother, Adrian,” Robin revealed. “We haven’t spoken in over six months. He’s had some trouble with the law. I’ve been trying to help him, but he disappeared. I think he might be the one you’re looking for.”
I felt the blood drain from my face, shame and horror cloaking me in equal measure. “Oh my God. Robin, I’m so sorry. I thought—”
He held up a hand, cutting me off. “It’s okay. I understand. Anyone would have done the same thing in your shoes.”
But I could see the hurt in his eyes. I’d accused him of being a criminal and had the police come after him. Would he ever forgive me?
As if on cue, Mom burst into the café, her eyes wild as she scanned the room. When she spotted us, she rushed over, stopping short when she saw Robin still sitting there.
“What’s going on? Why isn’t he in custody?”
I stood up, placing a hand on her arm. “Mom, we made a mistake. A big one.”
Robin stood as well, offering his hand to my mother. “Mrs…?”
“Daisy,” Mom said, frowning.
“Mrs. Daisy, I understand there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not the man who hurt your friend. But I think I might know who did.”
He showed her the photo, and I watched as the same shock I’d felt played across Mom’s face.
“I can’t believe it,” she murmured, looking between Robin and his brother’s picture. “They’re identical.”
“Adrian and I… we’ve always been close. Or we were. But lately, he’s been making some bad choices. I’ve been trying to help him, but he disappeared a few months ago. I’ve been worried sick.”
I reached out, touching his arm before I could stop myself. “I’m so sorry for putting you through this, Robin. I feel terrible.”
He gave me a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t. You were trying to do the right thing. To protect others from being hurt.”
Mom shook her head, sinking into a chair. “I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, dealing with your brother’s actions.”
Robin’s smile faded completely. “It’s been challenging. But I’m not giving up on him. I can’t.”
An awkward silence fell over the table. I fidgeted with my napkin, trying to find the right words to fix this mess I’d created.
How do you apologize for accusing someone of being a criminal? For bringing the police down on an innocent man?
Finally, I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Robin, I know this isn’t how either of us imagined this evening going. And I completely understand if you never want to see me again. But, if you’re willing, I’d love to start over. Maybe we could try another date? One without any police involvement or mistaken identities?!”
He looked at me for a long moment. My heart raced as I waited for his response. Finally, he broke into a genuine grin, the warmth returning to his eyes.
“I’d like that, Selena. I’d like that a lot!”
As we left the café, walking into the cool night air, I couldn’t help but feel that despite all the chaos and misunderstandings, this might just be the beginning of something wonderful.
And terrifying. Because now, somewhere out there, was a man who looked exactly like the one beside me. A man who was everything I’d feared Robin to be.
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