For seven years, I cared for Mrs. Patterson, an elderly woman abandoned by her family. They visited only to take money, leaving her heartbroken and waiting for love that never came.

She had wealth but no warmth. Over time, she became my family, filling my lonely life with love, laughter, and purpose.

When she passed, her relatives wept fake tears, eager for their inheritance. But at home, grief consumed me—until a knock at my door changed everything.

Two officers stood there. “Are you Mrs. Patterson’s caretaker?”

A chill ran down my spine. “We need you to come with us.”

Inside her home, her furious family waited.

Victoria pointed at me. “She manipulated my mother!”

The lawyer unfolded the will.

“To my children, I leave my forgiveness.”

“To my grandchildren, my hope that they learn love and loyalty.”

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

Chaos erupted. Accusations flew. The lawyer silenced them.

“She left proof—letters, photos, records of her love for Grace.”

Tears blurred my vision. Mrs. Patterson had given me more than a house.

She had given me a home.