At my grandmother’s funeral, I saw my mother quietly slip a small package into the coffin. Curiosity gnawed at me, so later,

I took it. When I looked inside, my heart sank.

The package held letters from Grandma, each revealing a painful truth. She had discovered that my mother, driven

by a gambling addiction, had been stealing small sums from her for years. Grandma’s tone in the letters shifted

from concern to heartbreak and finally to resignation. In her final letter, she made a clear decision: everything she

owned would go to me, the one who truly loved her.

In a shocking twist, a recent letter from Mom was inside, written to Grandma after her death, gloating that she would

manipulate me into giving her the inheritance. I knew then I had to confront her. Over coffee, I handed her one

letter and a note from me, warning her: if she ever tries to deceive me, everyone will know her secrets.

Some lies, I realized, can’t stay buried forever.