I stood at the cemetery, watching as Grandma’s coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.
Beside me, I gripped Berta’s leash tightly. She strained forward, pulling as if she wanted to follow Grandma.
Berta had been Grandma’s dog. She got her when I was little, and Grandma always said that Berta was her best friend—almost the only one she truly trusted.
Grandma was a good person, though she could be very particular.
She had earned a great deal of money in her lifetime, yet she never gave any of it directly to her children or grandchildren. Instead, she paid for everyone’s education. She believed that everyone should build their own life from nothing, just as she once had.
Because of that belief, my mother, my uncle, my aunt, and all my cousins had long since stopped speaking to her. They barely even mentioned her—until that day.
I looked around at them, studying each face. I knew exactly why they were all here.
Money.
They were hoping that, at the very least, Grandma would leave them something after her death. But knowing her, I doubted it would be that simple.
During the last six months of her life, Grandma had been very ill, and I had moved in to take care of her.
Balancing that with my job as a nurse hadn’t been easy, but I managed.
I knew she was grateful that someone had stayed by her side through those difficult days.
Still, she hadn’t made things easier for me either. I remembered one day when I had received a massive bill for car repairs.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to pay for this,” I told her.
“You’re a strong girl. You’ll manage,” Grandma replied.
Of course, I hadn’t expected anything different. She never made exceptions, not even for me. But she had always supported me in her own way, guiding me, and for that, I was grateful.
After the funeral, everyone gathered at Grandma’s house to hear the will.
Knowing my family, I had already packed my belongings beforehand. I was certain they wouldn’t let me stay there.
While we waited for the lawyer, no one spoke. The silence was thick, broken only by cold, hostile glances.
Eventually, Aunt Florence, clearly bored, turned to me.
“Meredith, remind me, what kind of doctor are you?” she asked.
“I’m a nurse,” I replied.
“A nurse?” Uncle Jack repeated, visibly surprised. “You won’t make any money that way. Tom has his own car company, and Alice owns several beauty salons,” he added, gesturing toward my cousins, who sat there with smug expressions.
“I help people. That’s enough for me,” I said.
“I can’t believe I gave birth to her,” my mother muttered.
We only spoke three times a year—on my birthday, hers, and Christmas—and even then, only over the phone.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
When it became clear that no one intended to answer it, I got up and opened the door.
Standing there was Mr. Johnson, the lawyer handling Grandma’s will. I led him into the living room, where the family sat waiting in silence.
He remained standing near the entrance, politely declining my offer to sit.
“I won’t take much of your time,” he said calmly. “There isn’t much to discuss.”
“What do you mean, not much to discuss? What about the will?” my mother demanded.
“She must have left something,” Uncle Jack added impatiently.
“It seems Cassandra didn’t think so,” Mr. Johnson replied dryly.
“What do you mean?” Aunt Florence asked.
“None of you will receive any inheritance from Cassandra,” he said flatly.
The room erupted in shocked, angry gasps.
“How is that possible?! We’re her family! Who gets the money and the house then?!” my mother shouted.
“I’m afraid I cannot share that information,” Mr. Johnson replied. “Now, I must ask all of you to leave the house.”
No one moved.
“That old witch!” Uncle Jack snapped. “I knew she didn’t care about us, but not even a penny after she died?!”
“Don’t say that,” I said quickly. “Grandma cared about us. She just showed it differently.”
“Yeah, right,” my mother muttered. “She was a witch when she was alive, and she still is now.”
At that moment, Berta barked loudly.
“Oh right, what are we going to do with that dog?” Aunt Florence asked.
“Put her down,” my mother said coldly.
“I agree,” Uncle Jack added. “She’s ancient anyway.”
“You can’t put her down!” I shouted.
“And what are we supposed to do? It’s better than throwing her out on the street,” my mother replied.
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