I’m Eleanor, 90 years old, widowed, and exhausted from being forgotten. I told each of my five grandchildren they would inherit two million dollars—but with one secret condition. Every one of them agreed, followed the rules, and none realized I was testing them.
After my husband George passed, my house grew quiet. Birthdays and holidays felt empty. Even Sundays, once full of laughter, became long, lonely afternoons. Invitations to visit were always met with the same response: “Sorry, Grandma. Busy.”
Hurt but calm, I decided to teach a lesson—not with anger, but with their own greed. I promised them a two-million-dollar inheritance if they visited me weekly and kept it a secret.
I began with my granddaughter Susan, a single mother working three jobs. Despite exhaustion, she welcomed me warmly, cooked, cleaned, and genuinely cared. The other grandchildren complied but without heart—they came, did the minimum, and left.
Three months later, I gathered them all and revealed the truth: there was no inheritance. Anger erupted, and one by one, they left—everyone except Susan. She stayed, concerned for me, not for money.
That’s when I knew who truly cared. I changed my will so my estate would go into a trust for Susan’s children. She still visits every Monday—not out of obligation, but because she wants to. Because she loves me.