Money has been called the root of all evil, but the truth is, it doesn’t change people—it reveals them. When large sums of money are involved, people’s real nature comes to the surface.
In the following stories, three individuals were put to the test. One woman tried to control her husband’s life and finances by forcing his son out. Another attempted to mend a broken family using wealth. And in a shocking twist, one man faked his own death for a life insurance payout. Read on…
1. My Stepmom Tried Kicking Me Out Only to Discover Something Shocking About Our House That Turned the Tables Around
I came home exhausted. Between college classes in the morning and working at a gaming store in the evening, my days were relentless. I never wanted this part-time job, especially since my dad earned more than enough to support me.
But my stepmom, Karen, had insisted. “It’ll teach him responsibility,” she had argued, convincing my dad that I needed to work for my own expenses.
The moment I stepped into the house, Karen was on me. “Why are you late? You were supposed to clean today!”
I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “I had a long day. I’ll clean tomorrow.”
Karen folded her arms, her eyes sharp. “Tomorrow? That’s not how responsibility works, Marcus.”
I clenched my fists. “You’re home all day. Is cleaning really that hard?”
Her face turned red. “How dare YOU speak to ME like that!”
Before things escalated, Dad walked into the room. “What’s going on?”
Karen crossed her arms dramatically. “Marcus refuses to clean.”
“I’m not refusing. I said I’ll do it tomorrow,” I defended myself, trying not to snap.
Dad sighed. “He’ll do it tomorrow. Let’s leave it at that.”
I felt relieved and turned toward my room, but Dad stopped me. “Don’t go anywhere tonight, son. We have news to share.”
Later, I sat at the dining table, poking at a plate of cold leftovers, feeling my stepmom’s eyes on me.
Dad cleared his throat. “We’re pregnant!” they announced in unison.
I froze mid-bite. “Uh… congratulations.”
Dad beamed, but Karen remained cold.
Then, with no hesitation, she dropped the bombshell. “Marcus, you need to move out.”
I blinked. “What? Dad, what is she talking about?!”
Karen didn’t even flinch. “With the baby coming, we need more space. You’ll just be in the way.”
I looked at my father, hoping—begging—for him to speak up.
He hesitated, then sighed. “We think it’s best if you start living on your own.”
Betrayal hit me like a punch to the gut. “Where will I go? I study full-time and only have a part-time job! Dad, this is my home too!”
Karen gave me a smug smile. “You have three days to figure it out.”
I stormed to my room, slamming the door. That night, I lay awake, feeling lost and abandoned.
Then I thought of Grandma Rose.
With shaking hands, I called her. “Grandma, it’s Marcus.”
“Marcus? What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked gently.
I choked out everything. There was silence, then her calm but firm voice. “Do nothing. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
The next morning, the doorbell rang. Standing there was Grandma Rose—fierce and ready for battle.
“Everyone to the living room. Now,” she commanded, stepping inside like she owned the place.
Karen scoffed. “What’s this about?”
Grandma Rose turned to her with eyes like fire. “How dare you throw a child out of his own home?”
Karen scoffed. “Marcus isn’t a child. He should be independent.”
“He is a student,” Grandma Rose corrected. “But more importantly, none of this matters because this is Marcus’s house.”
Silence.
“What?” Karen’s smirk disappeared.
Grandma Rose smiled. “My late sister left this house to Marcus when he turned eighteen. It belongs to him. Not you.”
Karen’s face twisted in disbelief. “That’s not true! Tom, say something!”
But my father looked at Rose, then at me. “Is that true?”
“Yes,” Grandma Rose said. “And by the way, Karen… how’s that wine you were drinking this morning? Strange choice for a pregnant woman.”
Karen’s face turned white. “W-what? How do you know about that?”
“I saw you at the café, drinking with your friend,” Grandma Rose said smoothly.
Karen panicked. “There is no baby!” she blurted out, realizing her slip-up too late.
My dad turned to her, stunned. “You… lied?” he whispered.
Karen tried to backpedal, but it was over.
“Pack your things and go,” Grandma Rose said, her voice final.
Karen sputtered. “You can’t do this!”
“Oh, but I can. You have until sunset.”
An hour later, Karen was gone.
Dad sat on the couch, looking lost. “Son… I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
I sighed, letting go of the anger for a moment. “Just… don’t let people control you like that again.”
For the first time in months, I felt safe. I was finally home.
2. Hate Tore My Family Apart Until My Grandmother Brought Us Together One Last Time with a Great Revelation
The cold air bit at my cheeks as Scott and I pulled up to Grandma Eleanor’s house. It was her 80th birthday, and for the first time in years, the whole family was gathering. But it wasn’t a happy reunion. We hated each other. Scott parked the car and sighed heavily as he turned off the engine.
“I still don’t get why we’re here,” he grumbled, his breath visible in the chilly air.
“It’s Grandma’s birthday,” I reminded him, trying to keep my voice calm. “She’s the only truly kind person in this family, and she wanted us all together.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “I could be working right now. You know we need the money.”
“It’s one evening,” I said, my hand instinctively resting on my stomach. “Do you think they’ll notice?”
Scott chuckled softly. “If I didn’t know, I wouldn’t notice. But what about telling your grandma?”
“Maybe at the end of the night,” I whispered, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.
As we walked toward the front door, my brother Michael and his wife, Stacy, called out from behind us. “Hey! Wait up!”
Stacy wobbled in her high heels, complaining loudly, “I can’t run in these!”
Scott and I exchanged a look, both of us rolling our eyes. We all knew Stacy only stuck around for Michael’s money. She wasn’t exactly subtle about it.
Scott nudged me to press the doorbell. “Can we just get this over with?” he muttered under his breath.
When the door opened, Grandma Eleanor’s warm smile greeted us. She hugged each of us tightly, her embrace filled with love and comfort. Inside, the dining table was loaded with food—roast turkey, mashed potatoes, pies, and more. It was a feast fit for a king.
“Why did you make so much, Grandma?” I asked, touched by the effort she had put into the meal.
“Oh, I love doing this,” she said, her eyes twinkling with joy. “It’s not every day I get to have my whole family together.”
As we settled in, Michael glanced around and asked, “Mom’s not here yet?”
Grandma’s smile faltered slightly. “She’s not sure she can make it,” she replied, a touch of sadness in her voice.
“Typical,” I muttered under my breath. “She never has time for us.”
Michael shot me a sharp look. “Stop. She’s our mom.”
“Yeah? And she hasn’t wished me a happy birthday in years,” I snapped back, my frustration bubbling to the surface.
Michael’s face hardened. “You act like you’re perfect, Camilla! She had her career as an actress to focus on!”
“And she put it before us every time because it’s the only thing she cared about!” I fired back, my voice rising.
Scott put a hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down. “Camilla, maybe just…”
I ignored him, my anger boiling over. “You only have those restaurants because Uncle handed them to you!”
Michael clenched his fists, his face turning red. “You’ve always been jealous of me, haven’t you?”
“Jealous of what? That you’re alone with a wife who’s only there for your money?”
“And you have it so good?” he sneered. “Your husband can barely hold a job, and how long have you been trying for kids… five, ten years?”
“Go to hell!” I shouted, standing up so fast my chair nearly toppled over.
“Enough!” Grandma Eleanor’s voice cut through the chaos like a knife. She stood, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “This is my birthday. I brought you here to celebrate… not to argue! And as for the inheritance…”
My head snapped toward her. “Inheritance?”
Eleanor’s voice was stern, her eyes locking onto mine. “Your grandfather left something, and I have plans for it too, but I’m not leaving a penny to either of you until you prove you deserve it and earn my trust.”
“What?” Michael demanded, his voice rising. “How do we prove it?”
“Show me you deserve it,” she said quietly, her gaze unwavering. Then she turned and left the room, leaving us all in stunned silence.
Needing air, I walked outside, my hands cradling my stomach. Michael followed me, his footsteps heavy on the porch.
“So we might have an inheritance,” he said, glancing at me.
“If you hadn’t ruined things as usual,” I shot back, my voice bitter.
“Me?” He looked stunned. “You started it!”
“Michael, I need this inheritance. Scott and I…” I hesitated, my hand resting on my stomach.
He raised a brow. “Why should I step aside? I need it too. Stacy’s about to leave if I don’t fix things at the restaurants.”
“Maybe she should,” I muttered, turning back toward the house. “I’m not giving up on this.”
Michael followed me back in, muttering under his breath, “Not fair, Camilla.”
I found Grandma in her room, sitting quietly by the window. “Grandma, I’m sorry we ruined tonight. Let me help you with anything.”
She looked at me with a raised brow. “Is this how you think you’ll win an inheritance?” she asked, her voice soft but firm. “Do you really need it, Camilla?”
I placed a hand on my stomach, my heart pounding. “Because…”
Just then, Michael burst in, interrupting. “Camilla’s lying about me, Grandma!”
“We weren’t even talking about you,” she said dryly, her tone sharp.
Then, just as we returned to the dining room, Mom arrived, swooping in with open arms. “My darlings!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
“Oh, Camilla,” she said, eyeing me critically, “have you gained weight?”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the table, my frustration growing. More bickering followed between my brother, me, and our mother as we tried to prove who deserved the inheritance most. Then suddenly, Grandma’s face turned pale. She clutched her chest, and we heard a loud thud as she collapsed to the floor.
“Grandma!” I screamed, rushing to her side. Then I clutched my stomach, a sharp pain shooting through me. “Call an ambulance!”
My husband rushed to my side, gripping my hand tightly. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s starting,” I gasped, my breath coming in short bursts.
Scott’s eyes widened in panic. “Labor?”
“Yes!” I shrieked, the pain intensifying.
Michael shouted, “You were pregnant?!”
Our mother’s eyes widened in shock. “I’m going to be a grandma?!”
“Call 911!” I demanded, my voice trembling.
We’d become so estranged that I didn’t even want to tell them when I got pregnant. I didn’t want to bother because Mom would ignore her grandchild just like she ignored me. The madness in our family is why Scott and I moved far away.
The only person I truly loved was my Nana. She was there for me all the time, the only light in this crazy family, and now she might be gone.
In the hospital, I refused to give birth until I knew about Eleanor. Scott pleaded with me, “Camilla, focus on the baby!”
After an agonizing hour, our baby girl was born. When I woke up, Michael entered the room, his face somber. That’s when I found out Grandma had passed away while I was in labor.
“We found a note addressed to the family in your grandmother’s belongings,” a nurse said as she handed it to us.
The note revealed that Nana had known I was pregnant. She’d left her whole inheritance to Scott and my child. She urged Michael to divorce his wife, who had opted to stay behind at the house. And lastly, she pleaded with our mom to do better for us and her grandchild.
Michael looked at me, his eyes filled with remorse. “I’m sorry for what I said, Camilla.”
Our mom looked guilty, her voice barely a whisper. “Could I… be a real grandma?”
“Maybe,” I said, holding my newborn daughter close. I felt like our family was turning a new leaf as I announced, “Her name is Eleanor.”
And in that moment, I knew Grandma’s love had brought us together one last time, giving us a chance to heal and start anew.
3. I Thought My Father Was Dead, Only to Discover a Sinister Truth When We Tried to Bury Him
The day was gray and heavy, like the weight pressing down on my chest. I stepped out of the car and stood in front of the church, my heart sinking as I thought about my father. He was gone, and the pain of losing him was unbearable. “We couldn’t even give him a proper funeral,” I whispered to myself, tears welling up in my eyes. Just then, Bella, Dad’s loyal dog, started barking wildly from inside the car. She was usually calm and obedient, but today, she was frantic.
“Bella!” I called out, turning to see her pawing at the window, her eyes wide and desperate.
I gave her the hand signal to calm down, and she reluctantly lay down, though her eyes never left me. “Stay, Bella,” I said softly, patting her head through the window. She whined softly, but I had to go inside. The funeral was about to start.
As I walked into the church, the air felt thick with sorrow. Dad’s casket was at the front, roped off because he had died from an infection. No one could get too close. I sat down beside my mother, feeling a deep ache in my chest. I knew I’d never get to say a proper goodbye.
The service began, and the final hymn started to play. Suddenly, Bella’s loud bark echoed through the church. My heart skipped a beat. I turned around and saw her—somehow, she had escaped the car and was now on top of Dad’s casket! Flowers crashed to the floor as she barked and scratched at the lid, her claws digging into the wood.
Something felt terribly wrong. I jumped to my feet, my heart pounding. “Open the casket!” I shouted, my voice trembling.
The room filled with murmurs, but I didn’t care. I rushed to the casket and threw it open myself. My stomach dropped. It was empty.
Gasps filled the room, but I barely heard them. My mind was racing. I turned to the funeral director, my voice shaking with anger and confusion. “Where is he? Where’s my father?!”
My mother collapsed, her knees giving out. I caught her just in time, holding her as she fainted. I rushed her to the hospital, my mind spinning. “How could Dad’s body just disappear?” I whispered to myself, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.
That night, I called the police. Detective Bradshaw arrived at my house, her face serious. “The coroner confirmed your father’s death and released the body to the funeral home,” she explained. “But, Mr. Hayes, could your father have been in some kind of trouble?”
I shook my head. Dad was a respected businessman who ran a successful dog training and rehabilitation center. He was careful, responsible—someone who would never put our family at risk. But with no leads, Detective Bradshaw left, promising to look into it. I couldn’t just sit and wait. I had to find answers.
Leaving Bella at home, I drove to the morgue. At the front desk, a nurse told me, “The coroner resigned, and no replacement has been assigned.” When I asked for Dad’s file, she refused—until I slipped $1,000 onto the counter. She looked the other way as I entered the coroner’s office, but Dad’s file was gone. Vanished.
Frustrated, I went to Dad’s office. I opened his email, only to find every message deleted. Just then, Dad’s lawyer, Mr. Stevens, walked in. “Ryan,” he said, his voice heavy. “You’re the new CEO of the company.”
I blinked, stunned. “What happened to Dad’s things here?” I asked, noticing two missing figurines of dancers that had always been on his desk.
Mr. Stevens shook his head. “Your father supposedly took them home, though I don’t think he ever found the third one. The collector wants half a million for it.”
I knew the dancers weren’t at home—I’d searched the house thoroughly while packing up Dad’s things. But Stevens had more to say. He revealed that the company was in severe debt, and investors had been pulling out for months because Dad had been missing meetings.
Then he dropped a bombshell. “Ryan, I believe your father was having a relationship with his new secretary.”
My stomach churned with anger, but I pushed it aside. I spent the day trying to calm the investors, but my mind was elsewhere. I needed to find Dad’s secretary, Miss Pearson. That evening, I followed her to her house. When she drove off, I snuck into her garage and made my way inside.
In her bedroom, I found a framed photo of her kissing Dad. My heart sank. Then, on the coffee table, I discovered a manila envelope. Inside was Dad’s $7 million life insurance policy—with Miss Pearson as the sole beneficiary. My hands shook as I held the papers. This was proof.
I drove straight to the police station and handed over the evidence. Hours later, they confirmed that Miss Pearson had booked a flight to Morocco—a country with no extradition treaty. Detective Bradshaw and her team rushed to the airport, but Miss Pearson was already gone.
I refused to give up. My last hope was the third dancer figurine. I tracked down the collector and paid an outrageous $750,000 for it. Then, I scheduled an auction, hoping Dad would hear about it and show up.
At the auction house, I watched from the shadows as the bidding began. When the price reached $1 million, a familiar voice called out. My heart stopped. It was Dad. I stepped out, blocking his path as Detective Bradshaw moved in and handcuffed him.
He glared at me, his face twisted with anger. “Ryan? You set me up!”
I stared at him, my voice cold and steady. “You faked your death to run off with your mistress, leaving us to grieve over an empty casket. You abandoned us.”
Dad’s face fell, and he confessed. He had faked his death to start a new life with Miss Pearson, leaving his family behind. I felt a mix of anger and sadness as I looked at him. “You taught me that a man should do what’s right, not follow his own selfish interests. I hope you remember that.”
Detective Bradshaw assured me that Miss Pearson wouldn’t get far. As they led Dad away, I knew he would finally face the consequences of his actions. The man I had once admired was gone, replaced by someone I barely recognized. But at least now, I had the truth. And that was enough to start healing.
