For seven years, I cared for Mrs. Patterson, an elderly woman abandoned by her own family. They visited only to take money, leaving her heartbroken and alone. Over time, she became my family, filling the void of my own loss with love and companionship.

When she passed away, her relatives reappeared, shedding fake tears at her funeral. I grieved alone—until two officers knocked at my door.

“We need you to come with us.”

At her house, her family awaited, seething with anger. Victoria, her daughter, pointed at me. “She manipulated my mother!”

Confused, I remained silent as the lawyer began reading the will.

“To my children, I leave my forgiveness, for they forsook me long ago.”

Gasps filled the room.

“To my grandchildren, I leave my hope that they will understand the value of love.”

They exchanged uneasy glances.

“And to my Grace, my friend and family, I leave everything—my house, my land, my wealth.”

Chaos erupted. “This is fraud!” Mark lunged, but security restrained him. The lawyer silenced them all.

“Mrs. Patterson anticipated this. She left proof—letters, photos, records of her time with Grace.”

He handed me a box of memories—us baking, laughing, sharing life. Tears blurred my vision. She had prepared for this moment, even arranging for security, knowing how her family would react.

Victoria collapsed. “She… left us nothing?”

The lawyer nodded. “She stated you abandoned her. This was her final wish.”

As the family was escorted out, their greed consuming them, the lawyer placed a hand on my shoulder. “She loved you, Grace. She wanted you to have a home.”

Clutching the key, I realized Mrs. Patterson had given me more than a house—she had given me a family, even in death.