For seven years, I cared for Mrs. Patterson, an elderly woman abandoned by her own family. “They visited just enough to take money before vanishing again,” leaving her heartbroken. Over time, she became my family—we cooked, shared stories, and she gave my life meaning.

After she passed, her greedy relatives gathered at her funeral, pretending to mourn. Days later, two officers arrived at my door. “Are you the caretaker of Mrs. Patterson?” they asked. I was brought to her house where her furious family waited. Her daughter screamed, “She manipulated my mother!”

The lawyer silenced them, reading the will. “To my children, I leave my forgiveness, for they have forsaken me long ago… and to my Grace… I leave everything, the house, the land, the money, all of it.”

The room erupted. “She’s a gold-digger!” they shouted, but the lawyer presented letters and photos proving Mrs. Patterson’s choice. She’d even arranged for security. “Ensure Grace has protection,” her will stated. The family was escorted out, defeated.

The lawyer told me, “She loved you. She wanted you to have a home.” As I held the house key and her box of memories, I realized Mrs. Patterson had given me more than a house. She had given me family.