I Was Just a Caregiver for an Elderly Lady Until She Revealed Her Plan to Rewrite the Will — Story of the Day

I thought I was just a caregiver for Mrs. Blackwood, a sharp-tongued, secretive woman, until her plan to rewrite the will in my favor, cutting out her children, pulled me into a storm of family secrets.

I was young, unemployed, and full of doubts. A nursing diploma in hand but no job prospects. Higher education in the city felt like a cruel joke. Weeks of failed interviews left me restless, staring at a bleak future.

Then, a small ad in the paper caught my eye:

“Nanny needed for an elderly lady who cannot walk. Live-in position.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

It felt like a lifeline. So, I headed to the interview.

When I arrived at the grand, slightly weathered house, the door was opened by a young man, perhaps in his early twenties.

“You must be here for the nanny position,” he said with a polite smile. “I’m Edward.”

Before I could respond, a young woman appeared behind him.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“And I’m Emily. Grandma’s expecting you,” she added, her tone friendly but distant, as if this was a routine chore she wanted to get over with.

They were kind enough to show me inside, but it looked as though they were obligated to be welcoming.

“Grandma’s upstairs,” Edward said as he gestured toward the staircase. “We’ll let her take it from here.”

They disappeared down the hall, leaving me with the distinct impression that they were more like housemates than attentive grandchildren.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Mrs. Blackwood greeted me with a smile that radiated confidence. She was in bed, but everything about her said she was in control. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her nails polished, and her laughter surprisingly hearty.

“Ah, you must Mia,” she said, her voice warm and commanding. “Come in, dear. Sit down.”

I hesitated for a moment. She didn’t match the frail, helpless image I’d expected.

“Don’t just stand there,” she teased, patting the edge of the bed. “Sit! Have a doughnut. No one should face the world hungry.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Thank you,” I replied, cautiously picking one from the plate on her nightstand.

Her eyes sparkled as she watched me as if she already knew my life story.

“So, tell me,” she began, leaning back slightly, “why do you want this job?”

“I need it. And I believe I can help you,” I said, trying not to overshare.

She nodded. “Honesty. That’s rare these days. Well, Mia, welcome aboard.”

That’s how my life in Lady Blackwood’s house began.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

The first few days were uneventful. I followed her routine, listened to her endless stories, and thought maybe this would be simple. But then, the strangeness began.

One morning, a book from the shelf moved beside her bed.

“Did you read this last night, Mrs. Blackwood?” I asked, holding up the book.

“I don’t sleepwalk, dear,” she replied, her lips twitching with amusement.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Then there was the curtain. I distinctly remembered leaving it open, but it was drawn when I returned. And the flowers… They were freshly watered when I hadn’t touched them.

“Are your grandchildren coming to kiss good night?” I asked one morning, trying to sound casual.

“Oh no,” she said with a small laugh. “Edward and Emily have been living here since their parents gone, but they rarely bother to check on me before bed.”

“But… someone’s moving things,” I pressed.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“They’ll come when the will is read,” she added, missing my comments.

Her words hung in the air like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Something was off, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mrs. Blackwood was hiding something from everyone, including her grandchildren.

***

Each new day in the Blackwood household seemed to unravel more mysteries. I decided to make a few changes to Mrs. Blackwood’s routine, not only to make her life more comfortable but also to create a sense of normalcy in the house. Instead of letting her eat alone in her room, I began setting the table in the living room.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“There’s something special about a proper dinner table,” I said, adjusting the silverware. “It feels more… lively, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Blackwood raised an eyebrow, but a faint smile tugged at her lips.

“You’re full of ideas, aren’t you, Mia?”

“And you’re going to love this one,” I said with a wink, pushing her wheelchair closer to the table.

I covered her with a soft blanket and tucked a pillow behind her back for support.

Edward and Emily weren’t as enthusiastic about the change. The first night, they entered the room with wide eyes, as though they had stumbled into a completely foreign world.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“What’s this?” Emily asked, frowning at the neatly set table.

“Dinner,” I replied cheerfully. “It’s nice to eat together, don’t you think?”

Edward hesitated. “But Grandma always eats in her room.”

“Well, not anymore,” I said firmly, pulling out a chair for him. “She deserves company, don’t you agree?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

They exchanged a look, clearly uncomfortable, but sat down anyway.

Later, I introduced the idea of reading nights twice a week.

“It’s simple,” I explained one evening. “We’ll each take turns reading a chapter aloud. Then we can discuss the plot. It’ll be fun, and it’ll give us all something to share.”

Mrs. Blackwood seemed to enjoy it, her laughter often punctuating the room as we stumbled through old classics and lighthearted tales.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

But after a few weeks, Edward and Emily began to find excuses to skip. Their absences became more frequent until it was just Mrs. Blackwood and me at the table.

One evening, the four of us gathered for the dinner.

“I’m glad you both joined us tonight,” Mrs. Blackwood began, her voice smooth and warm.

Edward glanced at Emily. “Actually, Grandma, there’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Emily jumped in before he could finish. “We’ve been thinking… It’s probably best for all of us if Edward and I move out. You’ll still have Mia here to take care of you, of course.”

Mrs. Blackwood tilted her head. “Moved out? Where would you go?”

“We found a place downtown,” Edward explained quickly. “But, um, we’ll need a little help with the deposit and rent.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For a moment, silence hung over the table. Then Mrs. Blackwood gave a slow, deliberate smile that made both Edward and Emily sit up straighter.

“Well, isn’t that convenient,” she said, her voice light but laced with something sharp. “Since we’re all sharing news, I have some of my own.”

Edward frowned. “What news?”

Mrs. Blackwood leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Next week, my lawyer will be visiting to make some changes to my will.”

Emily froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Changes?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Blackwood replied. “You see, I’ve decided that everything will go to Mia.”

“You’re joking!” Emily exclaimed.

“Oh, I’m quite serious,” Mrs. Blackwood said, her voice calm. “Mia has shown me the kind of care and respect I haven’t seen from either of you in years. She’s earned it.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“But we’re your grandchildren!” Edward burst out.

“Then perhaps you should start acting like it,” Mrs. Blackwood retorted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe dinner is getting cold.”

***

Overnight, Edward’s and Emily’s behavior changed in the most absurd ways. Suddenly, they became the epitome of devoted grandchildren, vying for her attention. That was as entertaining as it was ridiculous.

One morning, I walked into the living room to find Edward arranging a vase of bright tulips on the table.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Flowers for you, Grandma,” he said, his tone overly cheerful. “I remember how much you love tulips.”

Mrs. Blackwood glanced at the flowers, unimpressed. “Do you? That’s interesting because I prefer orchids.”

Emily, not to be outdone, burst in a moment later carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.

“Breakfast in the living room today, Grandma! I thought you’d enjoy a change of scenery.”

Mrs. Blackwood raised an eyebrow, sipping the tea. “Well, aren’t you two just angels,” she said dryly. “Too bad you didn’t think of this sooner.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

They were relentless. Their efforts to win her over bordered on comical. Meanwhile, I barely had to lift a finger.

But despite their over-the-top efforts, Mrs. Blackwood remained firm. One evening, after a particularly extravagant dinner prepared by Emily, she announced:

“My decision is final. No amount of flowers or fancy meals will change it.”

The smiles disappeared, replaced by hushed conversations behind closed doors.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

The next day, Edward approached me.

“We’ve decided that your services are no longer needed. We can manage taking care of Grandma ourselves.”

It was clear his words were rehearsed, but the tension in his voice betrayed the real motive.

“Alright,” I said finally. “I’ll pack my things.”

As I turned to leave, Mrs. Blackwood called me to her room. She handed me an envelope stuffed with cash.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“It’s time for you to act. Rent a car, park it near the house at midnight, and wait in the garden when the lights go out. Be ready for anything.”

I stared at her, startled. “But what’s going to happen?”

She smiled. “Just trust me. You’ll see soon enough.”

***

I rented the jeep, just as Mrs. Blackwood had instructed. The following night, I drove toward her house and parked the jeep a few streets away, keeping it hidden under the shadows of tall trees.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Taking a deep breath, I got out and crept into the garden, crouching behind the hedge where I had a clear view of the house. Time felt elastic, stretching endlessly as I waited for her signal.

Then, all at once, the lights in the house went out.

My pulse quickened. I fixed my eyes on the windows, every muscle in my body tense. The darkness seemed alive, moving with shadows that weren’t there a moment ago.

Suddenly, the back door creaked open, and a figure in a black cloak emerged. It turned, the face illuminated by the moonlight.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Mrs. Blackwood?” I whispered, unsure if it could really be her.

“Come,” she whispered, moving with a speed and confidence that shocked me.

I hurried after her, struggling to keep up as she navigated the garden like someone half her age. When we reached the jeep, she slid into the driver’s seat without hesitation.

“Wait… you can drive?” I stammered, stunned.

“Of course,” she replied, her tone tinged with amusement. “Did you think I spent all my time in bed for fun?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

As she expertly maneuvered the jeep, she explained everything. The shifting objects, the carefully timed moments of helplessness—it had all been part of her plan.

“My grandchildren have spent their lives waiting for something they didn’t earn. You, Mia, showed me what true care and effort look like. It’s time they learn to stand on their own.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

True to her word, Mrs. Blackwood rewrote her will, leaving nothing to her grandchildren. Instead, she rewarded me generously and donated the rest to charity. Her grandchildren were given a choice: start earning their way or leave without support. Surprisingly, they chose to change.

As for me, I found a place to live and returned to my hospital internship, armed with glowing recommendations from Mrs. Blackwood. That adventure gifted me with an extraordinary friendship with Mrs. Blackwood, who taught me the true value of self-worth.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

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Bride Claimed I Destroyed My Son’s Wedding Because of My Outfit Choice – Was I Really Wrong Here?

Claire just wants to be the glamorous mother-of-the-groom—but when she realizes that her daughter-in-law has her own plans for the wedding, she steps back to focus on her own outfit, only for there to be a fight between her and Alice on the big day. Alice claims that Claire has destroyed the wedding by stealing her dream dress, while Claire sees nothing wrong in her actions. Who is wrong?

All I wanted was to be the mother-of-the-groom. That’s it. I just wanted to be the doting mother who loved her son more than anything—but this is the story of how my attempt to make my son’s wedding perfect turned into a day we’d all rather forget.

When Mark introduced Alice to us, she was unlike anyone I expected him to fall for. Mark, my son, is a lawyer at a top firm—a position that he secured straight after his graduation from Stanford.

“I’m going to be a lawyer, Mom,” he told me once when he was still in high school and doing an essay on the career he wanted to get into.

“I could easily see that,” I told him, making him breakfast as he worked away.

“It’s to help fight injustices. For children, specifically,” he said, drinking his orange juice.

Mark had big dreams, and I knew that my son was always going to reach for the stars.

Alice, on the other hand, was completely different from my son. Her entire personality was light and carefree, whereas Mark was serious and brooding. Alice was a self-taught coder, who freelanced from their cozy apartment. Their worlds, their politics, their interests didn’t align.

But they made it work—and they were a sweet couple for the most part. But love, as they say, is blind.

When Mark proposed to Alice, we were all invited to the scene to help surprise her.

“Please, Mom,” Mark said on the phone. “Alice isn’t close to her family, so to see you and Dad there will be good for her. She’ll know that she’s welcomed and supported.”

“Of course, honey,” I told him, already envisioning their wedding in my head.

I swallowed my reservations and offered to pay for the wedding. James and I had put money away for Mark’s studies, but he had always gotten bursaries which paid for it all.

“We can just use that money for the wedding, Claire,” my husband said over lunch the day after the proposal.

“It’s the best thing we could do for them,” I agreed. “This way they can save up to move out of that small apartment. I know Mark’s been talking about a house with a garden because he really wants a dog.”

When we told Mark and Alice, I thought that the gesture would bring us closer. I didn’t have any daughters, so I thought that this would be my chance.

I could get to know Alice better—and that would be good for Mark, to know that his wife and his mother got along well. Instead, the wedding planning only highlighted our differences.

After a few months into the wedding planning, I met Alice at a coffee shop so that we could go over the details. But we clashed on everything.

“I think roses are timeless,” I said, helping myself to a slice of cake.

“They are, but they’re also overdone in a sense,” Alice said, sipping her tea. “Mark and I want peonies.”

Our meeting went back and forth a few times—and we were stuck in a space where we just couldn’t agree on anything.

“Okay, how about this?” I asked her. “You go ahead with everything else, and just tell me what color your bridesmaids are wearing, so that there won’t be any clashes.”

“They won’t be wearing green,” she said. “I’m leaning toward pink.”

I paid the bill and we parted ways with the wedding planning.

But then, one afternoon Alice texted me.

Hi Claire, just picking out my wedding dress with the girls! I’m so excited! I wish you were here!

Attached were photos of her five top wedding dress picks.

I knew that Alice and I were on different ends of what we thought that the wedding should look like, but I wanted to be included in the big things. I wished that she had included me in the wedding dress shopping.

“At least she’s sending you the top picks,” James said as he read the newspaper next to me.

“I know, but it’s not the same,” I said.

“Do they look good?” he asked. “Can I see them?”

Together, we scrolled through the photos of the potential dresses. They were adequate choices, but nothing stood out.

Nothing that would fit the standard of my future daughter-in-law.

The dress that was Alice’s favorite and the first contender for the actual wedding dress wasn’t what I expected.

I typed back, telling Alice that it wasn’t quite the best choice. And I hoped that my financial stake in the wedding would weigh in. James and I hadn’t given the kids a budget. They had everything at their disposal.

Why not consider the second one? It might be more flattering for you.

James chuckled beside me.

“You’re at the point of over-stepping,” he said.

Before I could say anything, my phone pinged with a message from Alice.

Sorry, but I disagree. This is the dress I’m choosing.

That night over dinner, as James was plating our salmon, I shared my frustration with him.

“Alice is not even considering my opinion, and I’m paying for the dress!” I exclaimed.

James tried to mediate; he also texted Mark to make sure that he knew how I felt, too.

“I think you should just leave the wedding planning to them now,” James said. “Put all your attention into yourself and what you’re going to wear.”

But it also turned out that Mark was able to persuade Alice to wear the dress I preferred.

I had to admit, it was the less stressful option, and I hadn’t been able to shop for my dress before that.

So, that’s what I did.

I went to a few different boutiques and eventually found my perfect dress. It was emerald green, which I knew brought out my eyes.

“That’s beautiful,” James said when I tried the dress on for him.

I had felt different. I no longer felt like the mother-of-the-groom who had been pushed aside. Instead, I felt beautiful in my own skin, my self-esteem growing every time I thought of the dress.

When the wedding week loomed upon us, James and I tried to make ourselves as present as possible. We went to all the events that Mark and Alice needed us to be at—including the rehearsal dinner where we saluted them and drank champagne to toast the festivities.

“All sorted, Mom?” Mark asked me. “Your dress and everything?”

I smiled at my son. Despite being in the middle of Alice and me, he was always checking in on me.

“Of course,” I said. “I’m ready to celebrate you and Alice.”

On the morning of the wedding, I put on my green dress and did my make up. It was everything I had wanted to look for my son’s wedding—elegant and sophisticated.

As I arrived at the venue, the air was thick with murmurs. I ignored them, thinking that everyone was just so used to me being dressed in comfortable clothing, that this was something different for them.

I went straight to the bride’s dressing room, hoping to see Alice and compliment her before she walked down the aisle.

Upon opening the door, Alice looked up—her joyful expression collapsing into one of utter devastation. She looked me up and down before bursting into tears.

“Why did you do this to me, Claire?” she sobbed, her voice choked with emotion.

Confused, I stepped into the room and closed the door.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“Your dress!” she exclaimed.

“What about it?” I asked, second-guessing everything.

“It’s my dream wedding dress, just in another color,” she said, nearly shouting.

I was taken aback.

“Alice, honestly,” I said. “I didn’t realize—they look so different in color.”

But Alice wasn’t having any of it. She sat on the edge of the couch, her head in her hands.

“How could you?” she looked up and cried out. “You’ve made this day about you! Just because we didn’t take any of your suggestions!”

Mark, having heard the commotion from his dressing room next door, came rushing in.

“Mom? What’s going on here?” he asked me.

He looked from Alice to me, seeking an explanation.

Trying to calm the waters, I explained everything slowly.

“I didn’t see the resemblance, Mark,” I said. “I truly just loved the dress, and I thought—”

Alice stood up and marched toward Mark.

“No!” she exclaimed. “You thought that you’d show me what I could’ve had, but in green. Isn’t that it?”

“Mom, please,” my son said. “Let’s just try to get through the day. Please, for me.”

I agreed and left the dressing room. I just wanted to find James and sit quietly until the day was over.

I knew that Alice and I were walking a thin line, but I didn’t expect her to shout at me in the manner that she did.

Naturally, I was upset, but I didn’t want to ruin their day any further.

Reflecting now, perhaps I should have been more open to Alice’s preferences. It was her day after all, not just mine to orchestrate. The question of whether I was wrong hangs heavily over me.

Yes, in trying to enforce my vision, I might have lost sight of what was truly important—Alice’s happiness and Mark’s peace on their special day.

Was I wrong for what I did?

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