Category: Uncategorized

A homeless and poor Brandon offers his last $2 to an elderly man in need at the gas station store and inherits his company the next day. Brandon thinks this is the start of a new life for his family.

Brandon clutched his paper cup with change as he shuffled into the gas station store. He was near an aisle when a loud voice distracted him. He saw a queue of angry shoppers waiting behind an elderly man who had difficulty hearing.

“I’m sorry, what did you say about the water being funny?” the elderly man asked the cashier.

“Money!” she groaned. “I said you don’t have enough money, sir!”

“Yes, it was a sunny day!” replied the man with a frown.

“You need more cash! For the water!” A younger guy standing behind the man grabbed him by the shoulder and yelled into his ears.

Brandon noticed everything. He was tempted to step in, but he didn’t want to attract the shoppers’ ire. Meanwhile, the elderly man explained he didn’t have enough cash, asking if he could get a smaller bottle of water as he needed to take his pills.

“If you can’t afford to pay, you’ll have to go!” shouted the cashier.

“I can go?” He smiled and turned to leave, but the cashier snatched the water bottle from his hand. “Just get out, old man!” she hissed. “You’re way too much trouble!”

The elderly man requested that he needed to take his pills, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Brandon had had enough. He marched to the cashier and offered to pay for the old guy.

“Have a heart, lady,” he said and emptied his cup on the counter. The woman looked at him in distaste before she counted the money.

“That’ll cover it,” she said, taking all the money, including his last $2. “Now step aside. You’re holding the line.”

Brandon abandoned his can of beans on the counter as he offered the water to the older man.

“Here you go, sir. I got you water,” he spoke slowly and clearly, ensuring the man could see his face if he needed to lip-read. And the man thanked him. They left the store together, and Brandon headed to his tent on the bare patch of ground adjacent to the station, but the man stopped him.

“Wait!”

Brandon turned around.

“Why did you help me when you obviously needed the money?” asked the older man.

“But what are your kids going to eat? You left the beans on the counter.”

“We have the last of yesterday’s bread,” Brandon replied. “We’ll get by.”

The man walked away but with a frown. Brandon noticed he got in a gleaming SUV and wondered why a man like him couldn’t afford a bottle of water.

The next day, while Brandon was dividing cold fries among his kids, a silver sedan pulled up near his tent. A man in a fancy suit approached.

“Morning, sir. Mr. Grives’s last wish was for me to deliver this to you,” he said, extending an envelope.

Brandon wiped his hands and took it. There was a letter inside.

“Is this a joke?” Brandon looked up at the man.

The man produced a stack of printed papers and a pen. “Mr. Grives was quite serious. And the moment you sign these papers, it’ll be official.”

“But I just met the guy yesterday. And now he’s dead and leaving me everything?” Brandon asked as he studied the documents.

“I understand your concerns, sir, but these papers were drawn by the finest lawyers. All we need to do is fill in your name, and the lawyers will proceed with the rest.”

This was his chance to provide his kids, so Brandon signed it. Then, the man drove him and the children to their new home.

As they arrived, Brandon stared up at the massive mansion.

Brandon could barely believe it himself. But the moment he pushed the double doors open, he sensed something was wrong. The house was a mess—a table lay on its side in the hallway, and a closet had been toppled over.

Brandon dumped the luggage, ran after the car, and told the driver to call 911. A few hours later, he stood among slashed sofas and broken furniture, speaking to the cops.

“We’ve examined the entire house and found no sign of forced entry, sir,” the officer said. “This, combined with the fact that the security system appears to have been overridden using the correct code, suggests that whoever vandalized this place had a legitimate means of gaining entry.”

“Like a key? So, the person who did this just walked in here?”

“I’d suggest you change the locks, sir,” the officer nodded.

As the cops left, Brandon suspected the elderly man’s son.

The next day, Mr. Grives’s secretary arrived early. She took Brandon shopping and got him cleaned up at a barber before taking him to the company. In the office that once belonged to Mr. Grives, Brandon was about to go through the files on the computer when the doors burst open.

“You must be Brandon!” A middle-aged man in a dark suit entered the office. “I’m Christopher, one of Mr. Grives’s former business partners, and I’m here to save you from a whole heap of trouble.”

“I’m sorry?” Brandon asked.

Christopher explained he handled the sales for one of Mr. Grives’s ‘specific’ businesses. Brandon quickly understood it was something illegal. He refused to continue it, but Christopher was having none of it.

“Listen up, you moron! Grives owed me $2 million for handling the illicit side of his business! You’re now responsible for that,” he snarled. “And if you don’t pay up, I’ll go to the police and tell them everything. Furthermore, as the company’s owner, you will be liable for all damages. So, I’ll be expecting my $2 million by Saturday.”

“What? This is extortion! You can’t be serious!” Brandon retorted.

“Yes, it is. And just in case you think I’m not deadly serious…” Christopher pushed back his suit jacket and placed his hand on the butt of a gun holstered at his side. “…rest assured that if you cross me, Brandon, I’ll make you disappear.”

Brandon said nothing and agreed to Christopher’s demands. But he wondered if Christopher was scamming him. So Brandon searched for any hints of this illicit side of the business.

By that evening, after reviewing the data from all the other departments, Brandon was convinced Christopher was lying. But then, he noticed the filing cabinet tucked into a corner of the room. Brandon unlocked it with the keys he’d found earlier on his desk. And the first thing he noticed was an old-fashioned file box tucked into the drawer.

Inside it was a ledger with entries written in some kind of shorthand, and Brandon realized Christopher wasn’t lying. In despair, he opened a drawer to find some bottles of scotch handy, and found nothing but a photo.

It showed Mr. Grives standing with…a younger guy. Brandon’s eyes bulged in horror when he realized how similar they looked. The young man was Christopher, Mr. Grives’s son!

Things started making sense to Brandon. He couldn’t believe a kind man like Mr. Grives would be involved in illegal business practices. So, most likely, Christopher was using his own shady dealing to blackmail him, Brandon reasoned.

A stroke of luck and a terrible twist that threatened to take it all away – everything was happening way too fast. Luckily, Brandon was not unfamiliar with the whirlwinds of the business world.

That Saturday, Brandon met Christopher in the underground parking lot but with a counteroffer.

“I’ve got to keep my word to your old man,” Brandon said, “so I’ll give you 49 percent of the company while I keep the remaining 51 percent. That’ll be enough for you to live lavishly, right? And I’ll reserve the right to manage the company like your father wanted.”

But Christopher refused. “I’m not a fool! I deserved all of it, not some token! Let’s talk when you come to your senses!” he hissed and left.

Brandon went back to the office. He decided to pay Christopher his $2 million and be done with this but found the company’s money was tied up in assets or allocated to monthly expenses. Brandon was helpless.

He returned home, dejected, where another trouble awaited him. As he opened the front door, he found his kids’ nanny tied to a chair and gagged.

“He took the kids! He said to tell you that this should be your wake-up call!” she cried as he freed her, and Brandon knew who she was talking about.

Brandon called Christopher and agreed to hand over the company, begging him not to hurt the children. They decided to meet at noon. But Brandon also called the police, and in the next half an hour, he was sitting with an FBI agent.

That noon, Christopher was chilling by the poolside of a hotel he’d rented out. He’d locked Brandon’s kids in a closet and dismissed all hotel staff except the manager, whom he had paid handsomely.

“Excuse me, sir,” the manager interrupted him. “You have a package.”

When Christopher checked the envelope, he grinned. He strode to his room and signed the paperwork he found inside the envelope. The company was finally his! Then, he freed Brandon’s children. “I’m sure a bunch of ragamuffins like you four can find your way. Now, get lost!”

]Christopher finished getting ready. Suddenly, he heard a click behind him. Although soft, Christopher instantly recognized the sound of a gun’s safety selector.

“FBI! Put your hands in the air! You’re under arrest.”

Meanwhile, Brandon held his children close on the sidewalk. Thanks to Agent Bates’s idea of putting a tracker in the documents, Christopher was caught.

Brandon took the children home, ready to make everything right. And when the FBI’s fraud division showed up with a warrant, he handed over the evidence—the copy of the company’s records and the ledger he’d found in his office—to the agents, knowing that by the time the investigation was over, he wouldn’t have a penny to his name. But he’d be free.

“Daddy, are we going to leave our home…just when Mommy died?” Kelly asked him.

Brandon got down on one knee and hugged his kids.

“Listen, you four, we’re going to be okay. You want to know why?”

Kids looked at him earnestly and nodded.

“It’s because the most valuable thing we have is right here, in my arms. So long as we stick together, we’ll always be rich in the most important way: love.”

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. 

When my 75-year-old father insisted we drive 1,300 miles to a mysterious coastal town for his birthday, I thought it was another of his whims. But his cryptic excitement hid something deeper: an old pact, an unknown destination, and the kind of secrets that could change how I saw him forever.

On her 18th birthday, Emma’s world shatters when a stranger knocks on her door, claiming to be her real mother. Desperate for answers, she leaves everything behind… only to uncover a chilling truth. Was she stolen… or abandoned? And now that she holds the key to a fortune, who really wants her, and who just wants what she has?

Growing up, I always knew I was adopted. My parents never hid it from me. It was just a fact, like my love for vanilla ice cream, brushing horses, or how I always needed a nightlight until I was twelve.

They told me I was chosen. That they had waited for years, hoping for a child, and when they found me, they loved me instantly.

And, of course, I believed them.

I had a good life. A warm home. Parents who never missed a soccer game, never forgot my birthday, never made me feel like anything less than their daughter.

They packed my school lunches, helped me with homework, and held me when I cried over my first heartbreak. And my mom and I used to cook dinner together every single day. It didn’t matter whether I was prepping for exams or whether I had a project.

It was… home. I was home.

I never once questioned where I came from.

But in the weeks leading up to my 18th birthday, something strange started happening.

It started with emails.

The first one came from an address I didn’t recognize.

Happy early birthday, Emma. I’ve been thinking about you. I’d love to talk.

No name. No context. So, I ignored it.

Then came the Facebook friend request from a profile with no picture. The name was Sarah W. The request sat in my inbox, unanswered.

And then, the morning of my birthday, the knock came.

I almost didn’t answer. My parents were in the kitchen, making my special birthday breakfast, pancakes and bacon, just like every year. But something about the sound of that knock made my stomach clench.

I didn’t know why, but I felt like a bad omen was about to drop into our lives.

“You’ll get the door, honey?” Mom asked while she took over the bacon.

“Sure, Mom,” I said, wiping my hands.

When I opened the door, I just knew that everything was about to change.

A woman stood on the porch, clutching the railing like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her blonde hair hung in messy waves, dark circles shadowing her sunken eyes. Her gaze landed on me, and she sucked in a sharp breath, like she had been holding it for years.

“Emma?” she gasped.

“Yeah… who are you?” I hesitated.

Her throat bobbed, her lower lip trembled. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said the words that truly changed everything, just as I’d felt seconds before.

“I’m your mother.”

The floor beneath me felt unsteady.

“Your real mother,” she added, stepping closer.

A cold, twisting sensation curled in my stomach.

No. Nope. No way.

This had to be a mistake.

“I know this is a shock,” she said, her voice raw and uneven. “But please, Emma. Please listen to me.”

I should have shut the door then. I should have called for my parents to deal with this person. But I didn’t. I couldn’t move.

Because the look in her eyes… it wasn’t just desperation. It was sorrow. Regret. And a kind of longing that seeped into my bones just by standing across from her.

“Your adoptive parents… they lied to you,” she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her palm.

My entire body went rigid.

“They tricked me, Emma. And then they stole you from me!” she said, grabbing my hands, her grip trembling.

“What on earth are you talking about?” I asked.

Tears welled in her eyes as she pulled a folder from her bag, shoving a stack of papers into my hands.

I glanced down, not knowing what to expect.

Birth records. My actual birth records.

And there, beneath a large block of text, was a signature.

Her name.

“I never wanted to give you up, Emmie,” she whispered. “That’s what I used to call you when you were in my belly. I was young and scared, but they convinced me I wasn’t good enough. That you’d be better off without me. They manipulated me, and I’ve regretted it every day since.”

I looked back at the papers. My hands shook. My brain felt frozen.

Emmie?

Could it be true?

Had my parents, my parents, lied to me? All my life?

She squeezed my hands tighter.

“Just give me a chance, love. Come with me. Let me show you the life you were meant to have.”

I should have said no. I should have slammed the door in her face.

Right?

But I didn’t.

Because some part of me, some small, broken part, needed to know.

I told Sarah that I would meet her at a diner.

Later, I stood in the living room, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might shake the floor beneath me. My parents sat across from me, their faces open, expectant. They were still smiling, still happy, still clueless about the bomb I was about to drop.

“Ready for the cake and ice cream?” my mother asked.

I swallowed. My throat was so dry it felt like sandpaper.

“Something happened this morning,” I said.

My mom’s smile faded first.

My dad set down his coffee.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. God, how was I supposed to say this?

I forced the words out.

“A woman came to the house.”

They both went rigid.

“She… she said she’s my biological mother.”

The air in the room shifted.

My mom’s hand tightened around the edge of the couch, her knuckles going white. My dad’s face became stone, like someone had sucked all the warmth out of him in an instant.

Neither of them spoke.

“She told me that…” My voice wavered. I steadied myself. “She told me that you lied. That you tricked her into giving me up.”

My mother let out a shaky breath, and something about it, something about the sheer hurt in the sound, made my stomach twist.

“Emma,” she said. “That is absolutely not true.”

“Then why did she say it?” I asked.

Dad exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled like he was trying to keep himself together.

“Because she knew it would get to you.”

I shook my head.

“You don’t know that.”

“Emma, we do,” my mom’s voice broke, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “We knew this day might come. We just didn’t think it would be like this.”

She reached for my hand, but I pulled back. She flinched like I had hit her.

“I just…” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She wants to get to know me. And I think I want to know her too.”

Silence.

Thick. Heavy. Suffocating.

“What exactly are you saying, Emma?” my dad asked.

“I told her I’d stay with her for a week.”

My mother made a sound, small, almost inaudible. Like a sharp inhale before a sob.

My dad sat up straighter, his jaw clenched.

“A week,” he repeated.

I nodded.

“Please.”

“Emma, please, my girl,” Mom said. “Just listen to us. Don’t go.”

“I’ve been listening to you my whole life. Please, let me just figure this out.”

Dad exhaled, his voice quiet but firm. “Go, Emma. Just… she left you once. Just think about that before you walk out that door.”

“I’ll call you,” I whispered.

Mom let out a choked sob.

“Yeah, you do that,” my dad said.

So, I went with her.

Sarah’s house wasn’t a house. It was a mansion. A bloody mansion. Who would have thought?

Marble floors. Chandeliers that looked like they belonged in castles. A grand staircase that curved toward the second floor like something out of a movie.

“This could be yours,” she told me, her voice thick with emotion. “We can have the life we were meant to have.”

A sharp pang of guilt twisted inside me.

Had my parents stolen this from me? Had they stolen her from me?

I decided to stay for a week, just like I’d told my parents. Just to see.

But the truth didn’t take that long to find me.

The next day, a woman stopped me outside the mansion.

“You must be Emma,” she said, watching me carefully.

“Uh… yeah. Who are you?” I hesitated.

“I’m Evelyn,” she exhaled. “I live next door.”

A pause.

“She didn’t tell you, did she? Sarah?”

A chill ran down my spine.

“Tell me what?”

Evelyn’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“That she never fought for you. That no one tricked her into giving you up. She did it because she wanted to.”

My stomach twisted, and the now-familiar feeling of dread and unease took over.

“That’s not true. It can’t be,” I said quickly.

Evelyn didn’t blink.

“I knew your grandfather well. I knew her well. I was there the entire time…”

I swallowed hard.

“She told me… not that.”

“What, honey? She told you that she was young and scared?” Evelyn cut in. “That she regretted it? That she cried for you every day? That she had a hole in her heart after you were gone?”

I nodded.

Evelyn’s face hardened.

“Emma, she partied. She partied hard. She spent every penny she had. And when she got pregnant, she saw you as an inconvenience. Suddenly, her life was… too different.”

I felt something inside me crack.

“She never once looked for you,” Evelyn continued. “Not once. Not until now.”

The mansion. The desperation. The timing.

“Why now?” I whispered. “Why would she look for me now?”

Evelyn sighed.

“Because your grandfather died last month,” she looked me in the eye. “And he left everything to you. You’re eighteen now, honey. It’s all officially yours.”

A rush of nausea hit me.

No. No… no, that wasn’t…

“She came back because you’re her ticket, Emma!”

“Because, honey, if she convinces you to stay here, then she’s going to tell you everything. And you’ll be her ticket to the good life. She wants you to be her ticket…”

The world blurred. The mansion. The tears. The trembling hands.

It wasn’t about love. It was never about love.

It was about money.

And I was nothing more than a golden ticket.

I stood by the grand staircase, my bag slung over my shoulder. Sarah leaned against the banister, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

“You’re really leaving,” she said flatly.

“Yeah.”

“You’re making a mistake, Emma,” she scoffed.

“No,” I said. “The mistake was believing you wanted me and not my inheritance.”

“I gave birth to you,” she said.

“And then you let me go.”

“So, you’re going to take the money and go?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to pay for my own tuition next year when I go to college. And I’m going to spoil my parents, as they’ve been spoiling me my entire life.”

For the first time, she had no comeback.

I turned for the door.

“You owe me, Emma,” she snapped.

I paused, gripping the handle.

“I owe you nothing,” I said.

When I got back home, my parents were waiting for me.

I didn’t say anything. I just ran into my mom’s arms.

She held me tight, stroking my hair.

“You’re home,” she whispered.

And she was right. I was home.

Because in the end, I didn’t need a mansion, or a fortune, or a mother who only wanted me when it was convenient.

“Welcome back, baby girl,” my father said.

I already had everything I ever needed.

A real family.