I worked as a maid for Mr. Sanders, or as he liked me to call him, Gregory. He was married to Linda, and they were just the nicest couple in the world. They were loaded but didn’t brag about it.

They treated me with all respect. Sadly, Linda passed away way too soon. It hit us both hard. Gregory was moping around like a lost puppy, but who could blame him?

Fast-forward some time, and he meets this younger woman, Marissa, at some elegant business meeting with some executives. I clocked her in immediately: she was a full-on gold digger. But she made my boss happy.

Boy, was I wrong! The second Marissa and her grown arrogant son moved into Gregory’s mansion, things did a 180.

They basically turned me into their own personal Cinderella. It was all “Clean this,” “cook that,” and “don’t you dare walk in on us while we’re counting our stacks of cash!” But fine, I could take all that… until I heard something terrible.

One day, I heard Marissa on the phone, gossiping about Gregory got sick. My heart jumped into my throat, but then, she was moping about having to cancel some trip.

Here I was worried sick about the man who always treated me right, and all she cared about was how her husband’s sickness messed with her plans!

Of course, when I offered to help take care of Gregory, Marissa shut me down. She was the wife and it was her job. Instead, she dumped a whole load of extra chores on me, like I was some kind of human dust buster.

Later that night, after I finished cleaning up some spilled wine over dinner, I made Gregory some soup. While I was checking on him, I totally unloaded on him about everything that had happened with Marissa and her son.

But turns out my boss wasn’t sleeping like I thought. He heard every word, including Marissa and her son bad-mouthing him and basically wishing illness would take him out.

My heart about sank into my stomach. I felt awful for venting about having to clean up after these losers when he had to hear their evil wishes!

The thing Marissa and her spoiled man-child didn’t understand was that my boss was successful because of his brilliant mind. After recovering, he told them he was moving to San Francisco for a while for business.

I was there when he broke the news and saw Marissa’s eyes practically turn into dollar signs!

But before they could make any moves, Gregory told them he booked them a room at the best hotel in the city as a casual surprise. So, Marissa and her son left the house with some of their bags.

In the meantime, guess who got a life-changing phone call while knee-deep in multiplication tables with my kids? Yep, me! I still remember that conversation, and it was originally so scary.

“Hello,” I answered. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, this is Mr. Anderson. Are you familiar with the house at 275 Oak Street?” the voice asked. A realtor?

“Yes,” I said curiously. “I work there.”

“I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Gregory,” the realtor said and then, went into detail.

Gregory was never going to San Fran. Instead, he bailed on his new wife and changed his entire will to give me his mansion. He wrote me a beautiful letter, too, saying that he viewed me as his daughter.

He wanted my family and I to have a safe comfortable, and most importantly, paid-off place to call home. The letter also contained his new address, a small, quaint house in San Francisco, and invited us to visit.

What happened with Marissa? That poor excuse for a human got the ultimate reality check. While they were off sipping margaritas in their fancy hotel, a lawyer showed up with a mountain of divorce papers.

Of course, my boss had made her sign a prenup, too! Therefore, Marissa went from dreams of champagne showers to living paycheck-to-paycheck back in the rented apartment.

My former boss died only a few months ago, so we all went to San Francisco for the funeral.

It was a bittersweet event, and I’ll be grateful to Gregory for the rest of my life.

2. The Grumpy Old Man Everyone Hated Wasn’t So Bad after All

I’m Jessie. I just want to tell you all how one customer changed my life forever. At 32, I was raising five kids at home and desperately had to return to work.

My first day back as a waitress was crazy. But I was all perky, when my coworker, Mark, pointed me towards table 13 like it was cursed.

A grumpy old man sat there, carefully examining the menu like it had done something wrong to him. Apparently, his name was Mr. Norton and everyone else avoided him.

“No problem,” I thought, completely naive.

Let me tell you, this guy was a whole new level of angry. He had a specific drink order and don’t even get me started on his expression when I told him we only had paper straws.

Mr. Norton gave me this look and muttered, “Stupid generation. I always have iced tea. But not too cold or too sweet. Two lemon wedges and a paper straw!”

He complained constantly about other things like “loud” clients, and sent his food back twice, and yet… he always left a decent tip. Strange, right?

Every day was the same – Mr. Grumpy ordered, complained, tipped. It was tiring, dealing with his demands, but hey, the money was good, and you gotta do you job to take care of your family.

Years passed. Mr. Grumpy remained a regular, becoming a predictable part of my day. I even learned how to handle him. I figured out his habits and managed his tantrums.

In the end, I grew to really like him and chuckled at his antics. Then, one day, Mr. Grumpy didn’t come in. I just saw his empty chair and got confused. But I got closer and saw a note and a key on his usual table. It said:

“Dear Jessie, thank you for putting up with this old grump for so long. I’m going to a special facility for hospice now, so I won’t be back. This is the key to my house. It’s yours. I’ve left my lawyer’s card. Goodbye, dear. P.S. My tea was too sweet, but I didn’t complain. See? My time is coming.”

His house. He left it to me! A stranger! His family didn’t like him, and I was the only one who ever interacted with him.

The house was perfect for our family, and it felt… unreal. So, I did what any curious (and slightly freaked out) waitress would do – I contacted his lawyer and visited Mr. Norton in a hospice facility.

There he was, frail and quiet. Did I cry? You bet I did. I didn’t realize how much I had come to appreciate Mr. Grumpy…

That weekend, I took the kids to meet him. And for the first time in a long time, Mr. Norton smiled. It was a moment more valuable than any tip.

A few weeks later, he passed away. The house officially became ours.

Now, whenever I see a grumpy old man, I just smile. You never know their story.

3. Four-Year-Old Triplets Stole Our Inheritance and Our Hearts

My dad, Graham (or you can call him Mr. Carlyle, as he preferred), updated his will and conveniently “forgot” to tell his kids – me, Caroline, and my brother, Ralph.

But fate intervened. His lawyer’s son was my boyfriend, who spilled the beans about the new will, and we weren’t getting anything. Instead, he had given his entire estate to three little kids who lived in an orphanage.

Their names were Kyran, Kevin, and Kyle, and were just four years old at the time we discovered all this. So, we raced to the orphanage named in the will to check things out properly.

As soon as I saw those triplets, it hit me. On the ride back to our homes, I discussed it with my brother.

“Those are Dad’s kids!” I whispered to Ralph as we sipped fancy water in the limo. “He cheated on Marcy!”

Ralph was furious. “Marcy’s not going to be happy. The nuns said the boys are four, and their mother died last year! The affair must have been a long one…”

A mischievous grin spread across my face. “Oh, you bet Dad will do anything to keep this a secret from Marcy!”

Marcy, bless her heart, had been a kind presence since marrying Dad after our Mom passed away. But her desire to be a replacement mother to us always made Ralph and me uncomfortable.

Therefore, Dad and she started IVF, and when those failed, she spiraled into a depression.

Ralph and I decided to confront our father with our discovery that same evening. We pretended to miss him and asked for a nice dinner with him.

Unfortunately for us, my father wasn’t a fool.

“Alright, out with it,” he demanded. “What do you want?”

“Well, Daddy,” I started sweetly, “we’re just worried about you. My boyfriend mentioned you changed your will…”

I almost jumped at my dad’s dark expression. He glared at us, then tried to explain. We yelled back. It was a whole thing, and then, my brother made a little mistake.

“We know those brats are your children,” Ralph threatened. “And if you don’t provide for our share, we’ll tell Marcy!“

That’s when the real drama began. Because Marcy rounded the corner. “I think you already did, Ralph.”

Dad threw us out of his dining room immediately, but we stayed close by to eavesdrop. This was our future!

In short, Marcy demanded answers, and I could hear her tearful voice. Dad was forced to confess to a drunken encounter with a woman in Geneva.

It happened during the worst parts of Marcy’s depression. But even Ralph and I were shocked when Marcy said she kinda knew about the affair already.

Dad then revealed that he only found out about the triplets recently, after discovering their mother had died. Well, despite suspecting his infidelity, Marcy wasn’t going to act all forgiving.

She banished Dad to the couch and left to her bedroom. The next week was awkward, although Ralph and I tried to cheer our father up a little at work. Okay, we were also still trying to get back in the will.

But it was hard to watch him tiptoe around Marcy, and her silence was deafening. But a few days later, we arrived at his house just as Dad was parking his car in the driveway, and the three of us heard the sound of laughter coming from inside.

We went in, followed the noise to the backyard, and my jaw almost dropped at the sight. Marcy was playing catch with the adorable triplets. Dad was obviously speechless.

Marcy turned to him with a big smile, said she still loved him, asking to raise the boys together. For the first time since I was born, I saw my father crying as he begged her for forgiveness.

Ralph and I looked at each other, and we just knew not to fight for this anymore.

So, the will remained the same, but we learned a valuable lesson about honesty and family.

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Note: These pieces are 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.