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. She had wealth but no warmth, and over time, she became my family.

When she passed away, her relatives wept fake tears at her funeral. I returned home, grieving—until a knock at my door changed everything.

Two officers stood there. “Are you the caretaker of Mrs. Patterson?”

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

At her house, her furious family waited. Victoria, her daughter, pointed at me. “She manipulated my mother! She planned this!”

The lawyer cleared his throat. “We are here to read the will.”

He began, “To my children, I leave my forgiveness. To my grandchildren, I leave hope. And to Grace… I leave everything.”

The room exploded with rage. But Mrs. Patterson had anticipated this, leaving letters and photos proving our bond.

As her family was escorted out, the lawyer placed a key in my hand.

“She wanted you to have a home.”

Through tears, I whispered, “She already gave me one.”