For seven years, I wasn’t just Mrs. Patterson’s caretaker—I was her companion and the closest thing to family she had. Abandoned by her children, she found comfort in our bond, and when she passed, my grief was immeasurable.
Her funeral was filled with insincere mourners, but I never expected what came next—a knock at my door from the police. Her family accused me of manipulating her into changing her will, claiming I had stolen from her. Shocked, I was taken in for questioning, only to learn she had left everything to me.
I had no idea she had changed her will, but her attorney, Mr. Harper, believed she acted of her own free will. When he mentioned she kept a diary, I knew I had to find it. Returning to her home, I discovered her handwritten words: she left me her estate because I had truly cared for her.
With the diary as proof, her family’s case collapsed. I inherited everything, but instead of wealth, I saw it as a final act of love. In her honor, I started a foundation for elderly care—because in the end, love, not greed, had won.
