At Grandpa’s funeral, 18-year-old Dahlia feels isolated as her family fumes over the pitiful $1 inheritance. But when a stranger slips her a secret note, Dahlia is pulled into a mystery only she can solve.
I stood by the graveside, hands clenched in the pockets of my too-small black dress, listening to the priest’s droning voice blend with the rustle of the wind.
This was the saddest day of my life, but everyone else in the family seemed more concerned with glaring at each other than mourning Grandpa.
I could feel their bitterness lingering in the chilly October air, thick like syrup. One dollar each. That’s all Grandpa left us in his will, and they were furious. But me? I wasn’t angry. Just… hollow.
Grandpa wasn’t supposed to be gone. He was the only person who ever saw me, not the mess-up or the spare kid nobody paid attention to, but me. He let me in when no one else cared.
I stared down at the flowers resting on his coffin. I’d brought him a red rose, and it stood out among the white daisies everyone else had placed on the casket.
“One dollar,” Aunt Nancy hissed from behind me. “One damn dollar! That man was loaded, and this is what we get?”
Uncle Vic let out a bitter laugh. “Right? I swear he did it on purpose, the spiteful old man.”
“Typical Dad,” Mom muttered, crossing her arms tight across her chest. “He always played favorites, and Dahlia here was his little pet. Bet she got something we don’t know about.”
Aunt Nancy’s eyes cut toward me, sharp as glass. “What did he leave you, Dahlia? Anything? Don’t act like you didn’t get something.”
I stiffened. “I got the same as all of you.”
Mom’s fingers tightened over my shoulder. “Are you sure?” she asked in a low voice. “You were always with him. Maybe he told you something… think hard, Dahlia. You owe it to your family to share whatever he gave you.”
Memories came rushing back of Grandpa’s goofy stories about long-lost treasure and the butterscotch candies he always kept in his coat pocket.
Sometimes, he’d wink at me and say, “One day, kiddo, I’m leaving you a treasure. Real treasure!” But it was just a game, a joke between us.
I shook my head and turned my gaze back to the coffin. “What Grandpa gave me was his love, his stories, and a place that felt more like home than my actual home. Those things were worth more than money, and there’s no way I can—”
“Nobody cares about any of that!” Mom snapped. “Think, girl! What happened to all of his money?”
I shrugged. I truly didn’t know the answer to her question and didn’t care. Grandpa was gone. He was my confidant, my safe place, my friend. I’d lost the most important person in the world, but all they cared about was slapping a price tag on his death.
“She knows something,” Vic muttered, loud enough for me to hear.
Their voices twisted together, accusing, scheming — like they could squeeze secrets out of me if they tried hard enough. But I had no secrets that could earn them more money.
The second they realized there’d be no fortune, they turned away from the grave and stormed off. I could still hear them bickering as they walked away, lashing out at each other like vultures. It made me sick.
“You must be Dahlia.”
I looked up to see a woman, maybe in her 60s, with kind eyes and a worn leather bag slung over her shoulder. Her smile was soft and secretive, like she knew something the rest of us didn’t.
“I was a friend of your grandpa’s,” she said, leaning in as if we were co-conspirators. “He asked me to give you this.”
Before I could respond, she slipped a folded piece of paper into my hand and whispered, “Don’t let anyone see it, especially your family.”
Her presence felt surreal, almost dreamlike, and before I could say anything, she was gone, swallowed by the crowd of mourners. My heart pounded in my chest as I unfolded the note.
111 locker — Southern Railway Station.
For a second, I stood frozen, the words blurring in front of me. Then it hit me: Grandpa’s “treasure.” A laugh bubbled up from my throat, inappropriate and wild, but I couldn’t help it. He wasn’t joking after all.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The note was tucked under my pillow like a secret. Grandpa’s voice echoed in my mind, playful yet certain: “Locker number 111… There’s treasure in there, kiddo!”
A weight settled on my chest, something between grief and hope. What if this wasn’t just some wild goose chase? What if Grandpa had really left something for me, hidden away where no one else could reach?
The thought twisted around in my mind until I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to know what was in that locker.
I called a cab the next morning. It was the first thing I did after I woke up. As I tiptoed past the kitchen, I could hear Mom muttering on the phone about Grandpa’s will, probably trying to squeeze sympathy or cash out of anyone who would listen.
I clenched my jaw and slipped out the door, the chilly morning air hitting my skin like a slap.
The ride to Southern Railway Station felt like the longest 20 minutes of my life.
My knee bounced with nervous energy as the cab wound through narrow streets, past graffiti-covered walls, and empty coffee shops just starting to open. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror but didn’t say a word.
When we finally pulled up at the station, I stepped out and asked him to wait for me. I clutched the note tightly as I entered the train station.
The station smelled like diesel and stale popcorn. People rushed past me in every direction — commuters, travelers, strangers with places to go.
I hesitated at the entrance, suddenly feeling small and out of place. But then Grandpa’s voice floated back into my mind, steady and reassuring: “Real treasure, kiddo.”
I took a deep breath and headed toward the lockers and I could hear my heart pounding. Rows of metal boxes lined the wall, each one looking identical: gray, dented, and slightly rusty.
My eyes scanned the numbers until I found number 111.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded note. The key was taped to the back. With trembling fingers, I peeled it off and slid it into the lock.
For a second, it jammed, and I panicked. But then — click! The lock turned, and the door swung open.
Inside was a duffel bag. It was old, faded, and heavy. My hands shook as I pulled it out and unzipped it.
The bag was full of cash. Bundles upon bundles of it!
I gasped, my mind reeling. It couldn’t be real, could it? I reached in and pulled out a stack, flipping through crisp hundred-dollar bills. There had to be at least $150,000 in there.
And tucked inside the bag was another note, written in Grandpa’s messy scrawl:
For my beloved granddaughter, everything I saved is now yours. Take it and live free, kiddo. The rest of the family may not see your worth, but I’ve always believed in you.
Tears blurred my vision, and I hugged the note to my chest, a knot forming in my throat. This wasn’t just money. It was freedom — a way out.
Grandpa always knew how badly I needed to escape this family. And now, he’d given me exactly what I needed and tricked everyone else in the process!
I zipped the bag shut, slung it over my shoulder, and walked out of the station, my heart pounding in tune with my footsteps.
The early morning sun was just starting to peek through the clouds, casting everything in a soft, golden light. For the first time in years, I felt… light.
During the cab ride back, I stared out the window, watching the city come to life. I had options now. No more suffocating family dinners, no more being ignored or treated like an afterthought, no more being the family scapegoat.
I could leave. I could build something new.
The thought scared me as much as it excited me, but Grandpa’s voice echoed in the back of my mind: “Live free, kiddo.”
As the cab pulled up to my house, I made my decision. I wasn’t staying. Not another minute!
I didn’t even bother going inside. I pulled out my phone, booked a ticket to anywhere, and told the driver to head straight to the airport.
With the duffel bag in my lap and Grandpa’s note tucked safely in my pocket, I smiled for the first time in days.
I was free. And for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what that meant.
My sister ruined my birthday because of her fixation on diet culture — I didn’t let it go unnoticed
Madeleine’s birthday takes an unexpected turn when her sister’s diet obsession turns the celebration upside down. Determined not to ruin her special day, Madeleine plans a bold move and gives Fiona a taste of her own medicine. Will Madeleine’s daring response save the day or create even more chaos?
“Fiona, can you come over to help with the birthday party?” I asked, sitting comfortably on my plush sofa, my phone pressed to my ear.
“Sure, Madeleine,” Fiona replied cheerfully. “What do you need me to do?”
“Decorations and food,” I said, relief washing over me. “I could really use an extra pair of hands!”
“No problem,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”
I smiled, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “Thanks, Fiona! What would I do without you? I’ll send you some money for the decorations, drinks, and a simple BBQ.”
“Got it. I’ll make sure everything looks perfect,” Fiona assured me.
After hanging up, I quickly transferred the money to her account.
I trusted Fiona with the decorations; she had an eye for detail and always made everything look beautiful. I texted her the list of things we needed and told her I’d leave the keys under the doormat.
“Hey, sweetheart, are we all set for the party?” my fiancé, Albert, asked as I sent my last text to Fiona.
“Almost,” I said, standing up and giving him a reassuring smile. “Fiona’s handling the decorations and food. We just need to pick up some cups and plates from the supermarket.”
“Didn’t we already have enough?” he asked, a little puzzled.
“I thought so, too,” I admitted, shaking my head. “But it turns out we’re short. I don’t want to risk running out during the party.”
“Good call,” Albert said, grabbing the car keys. “Let’s go then. Better to get this done early.”
As we drove to the supermarket, I felt both excited and nervous. Hosting a party always brought these feelings, but having Fiona and Albert helping made everything easier.
I thought about the backyard and how I wanted it to look festive and welcoming. Fiona’s decorations would be perfect, and the BBQ would keep everyone happy and full.
“Are you okay?” Albert asked, glancing at me as he drove.
“Yeah,” I replied, smiling. “Just thinking about how everything will turn out.”
“It’ll be great, Madeleine,” he said, squeezing my hand. “We’ve got this.”
We arrived at the supermarket and quickly gathered the cups and plates we needed. As we loaded them into the car, I felt a sense of accomplishment.
Everything was coming together.
“And we’re back!” I called out as Albert and I walked into the backyard, carrying the cups and plates. But my smile quickly turned to shock as I took in the scene before me.
The table was filled with an array of vegetables, rice cakes, and several containers of 0% yogurt, which was essentially yogurt with no fat or sugar.
And instead of a proper cake, there was half a watermelon with candles stuck into it.
My heart sank. This wasn’t what I had in mind at all.
I turned to Albert, whose eyes widened in disbelief. “What’s going on here?” he asked, clearly puzzled.
“I don’t know,” I said, confused.
I spotted Fiona arranging the table and quickly walked over to her, pulling her aside. “Fiona, what happened to the BBQ??” I asked, trying to keep my frustration in check.
“Well, it wasn’t a good idea considering your size, so I chose better options!” she said matter-of-factly.
I was shocked.
I come from a “bigger” family and have learned to love myself as I am. However, Fiona has always struggled with her self-image, trying hundreds of diets but never sticking to any of them.
I felt my cheeks flush with anger, knowing she’d done it because of her diet obsession! But I swallowed my anger as causing a scene wouldn’t help anything. The guests were starting to arrive, and I didn’t want to ruin the evening for everyone.
“So yeah, what was I saying? Yep, I just thought healthier options would be better for you, Madeliene,” she said, looking at me as if she had done me a favor.
“Fiona, this is a party! People expect to have fun and enjoy good food!” I almost snapped.
“I just thought this would be better,” she shrugged as if it was no big deal.
Taking a deep breath, I decided I had to fix this. I walked over to Albert, who was also puzzled by the spread.
“Albert, we need to order some normal food. The guests will be here any minute,” I said.
“Alright, I’ll call the pizza place and get some burgers delivered, too. We can’t let this ruin the evening.”
“Thank you,” I said, grateful for his quick thinking.
As Albert made the calls, I tried to mingle with the arriving guests, keeping a smile on my face despite my frustration. Everyone was polite, but I could see the confusion in their eyes as they looked at the food.
“What’s going on with the food?” one of our friends asked.
“Just a little mix-up,” I said with a forced laugh. “We’ve got some more food coming soon.”
Soon, Albert came back, giving me a reassuring nod. “Food’s on its way. Should be here in about thirty minutes,” he whispered to me.
“Perfect,” I sighed. “Thank you, Albert.”
“Don’t worry, Madeleine,” he said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll turn this around.”
With Albert’s reassuring nod, I felt a bit more at ease, knowing that more food was on its way. But I was starting to place the order for the BBQ when Fiona snapped.
“SORRY FOR BEING SUCH A TERRIBLE SISTER AND TRYING TO HELP YOU LOSE ALL THIS FAT!” she screamed, her voice echoing across the backyard. “KEEP STUFFING YOURSELF WITH BBQ, BUT DON’T EXPECT ME TO CHEER YOU UP WHEN YOUR FIANCÉ KICKS YOU OUT!”
The sudden outburst left everyone stunned. The guests looked around awkwardly, not sure what to do or say. I felt my face flush with embarrassment and anger!
“Fiona, will you please stop it?!” I said, pulling her aside again.
She glared at me, her eyes filled with frustration. “I was only trying to help you, Madeleine. You never listen!”
“Look, this is not the time or place for this,” I said, my hands shaking slightly. “We have guests here. Can we please talk about this later?”
“Everyone, let’s enjoy the evening. The food will be here soon, and we can all have a good time,” Albert announced, facing the guests. I could only feel grateful he was there to handle the situation with me.
Fiona crossed her arms, fuming, but she didn’t say anything further. I could see the guests shifting uncomfortably. I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure.
“I’m sorry, everyone,” I said, addressing the crowd. “There was a bit of a misunderstanding, but it’s all sorted now. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
With that, I turned and hurried inside to write a note for the delivery guy. “Please make sure to hand the order directly to me (Madeleine), not my sister,” I scribbled quickly, sticking the note on the front door.
The minutes dragged on as I anxiously awaited the arrival of the food. I kept glancing at the clock, hoping it would get there soon so we could move past the awkwardness. Finally, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door to greet the delivery guy, who handed me the bags filled with BBQ and other goodies.
“Thank you so much,” I said, taking the food from him.
“No problem,” he replied with a friendly smile.
Carrying the food back to the backyard, I took a deep breath. I was determined to salvage the evening, no matter what. But I was also going to teach Fiona a lesson about respecting boundaries and understanding what it means to truly help someone.
“Alright, everyone,” I announced, placing the BBQ and sides on the table. “The food is here! Let’s dig in and enjoy the evening!”
I began handing each guest a plate piled high with BBQ meat, salads, and sides. As I served, I made sure to keep my composure, smiling and chatting with everyone.
When I reached Fiona, I couldn’t help but feel a little mischievous. I stacked all the rice cakes and vegetables on a plate for her, making sure it was an impressive tower of the healthiest options available!
“Fiona,” I called out, drawing everyone’s attention. “I’ve got a special plate just for you!”
She looked up, surprised by the attention. As I handed her the plate, I couldn’t resist adding a little jab. “Here you go, Fiona. Make sure to stick with the healthy stuff. I wouldn’t want you to become unlovable by eating something unhealthy!”
Fiona’s face turned bright red. She stared at the plate, then looked at me with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Thanks,” she mumbled, barely able to meet my eyes.
“Everyone, enjoy!” I said cheerfully as I moved on to serve the next guest.
I also kept an eye on Fiona. She stood off to the side, barely touching her plate. I could see the discomfort and humiliation on her face. Eventually, she put the plate down and made her way towards the exit.
“I’m leaving,” she said quietly as she passed by me, avoiding eye contact.
“Okay,” I replied, shrugging.
I watched her walk away, feeling a sense of relief.
The BBQ was a hit, and people came up to me, complimenting the food and the decorations. It was exactly the kind of evening I had hoped for despite the rocky start. Most importantly, my “sweet” sister received a taste of her own medicine.
What would you have done?
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