Money is often called the root of all evil, but really, it’s not the money that causes problems—it’s the way people act when they have it. In these three stories, big sums of money revealed the true sides of those involved. Some people tried to take control, while others tried to fix what had been broken. You’ll read about how money and lies caused family turmoil—and, in one case, how it all turned out in the end.
1. My Stepmom Tried Kicking Me Out Only to Discover Something Shocking About Our House That Turned the Tables Around
I was exhausted. My days were a blur of college classes and working at a gaming store late at night, barely keeping up with everything. I hated my part-time job because I knew my dad made enough money for me to focus on school without worrying about it. But my stepmom, Karen, insisted I work, saying it would “teach me responsibility.”
That evening, I came home late, dragging myself through the door, and Karen was right there, waiting for me.
“Why are you late? You were supposed to clean today!” she demanded, her arms crossed, looking angry.
“I’m tired. I’ll clean tomorrow,” I said, trying to stay calm.
“Tomorrow? That’s not how responsibility works, Marcus,” she snapped.
I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “You’re home all day. Is cleaning that difficult?”
Her face turned bright red. “How dare YOU speak to ME like that!” she shouted.
Before the argument could get worse, my dad walked in. “What’s going on here?” he asked, looking between us.
“Marcus refuses to clean,” Karen said, crossing her arms in a huff.
“I’m not refusing. I’ll clean tomorrow,” I repeated, swallowing my frustration.
Dad sighed and glanced at Karen. “He’ll do it tomorrow. Let’s drop it.”
I felt relieved and started heading upstairs, but then Dad called out, “Don’t go anywhere tonight, son. We have news.”
I frowned, confused, but went to my room. Later, when Dad came to get me, I dragged myself back down to the kitchen. There was a cold plate of leftovers waiting for me, and I poked at it, feeling the tension in the air.
“So, what’s this big news?” I asked, glancing up.
Dad exchanged a look with Karen. Then, both of them announced together, “We’re pregnant!”
I froze, almost choking on my food. “Uh… congratulations,” I said, forcing a smile.
But Karen’s face stayed cold. Dad looked excited, but Karen wasn’t showing any joy.
Then, Dad cleared his throat and said, “Son, I don’t know how to say this… but…”
Before he could finish, Karen interrupted, “Actually, Marcus, YOU need to move out.”
I stared at her, stunned. “What? Dad, what is she talking about?” I asked, my voice shaky with disbelief.
Karen didn’t even flinch. “My baby is coming, and we need the house for it. Maybe do some renovations. You’ll be a burden, so you’ll have to go.”
“Dad? Where am I supposed to go? I can’t afford rent! I’m a full-time student, and I work part-time! Please, Dad, say something!” I pleaded, my heart racing.
Dad just looked at me, his face full of discomfort, but didn’t speak.
I felt betrayed. Without thinking, I snapped, “You know what? You two can go to hell!” and stormed off to my room, slamming the door behind me.
That night, I lay in bed, feeling completely alone. They couldn’t just kick me out like that, could they? The muffled voices outside the door made me press my ear to it.
I could hear Dad, unsure, saying, “Maybe he should stay until he finishes school…”
“No, Tom, we’ve been over this,” Karen replied firmly. “He has to go.”
I felt my heart sink. I was on my own.
The next day, Karen came into my room without knocking. “You have three days to figure it out,” she ordered.
I was furious. “I’m a student with a part-time job! I can’t afford a place, let alone in three days!”
She didn’t even respond, just walked away.
In that moment, I thought of Grandma Rose. She was always there for me, and maybe—just maybe—she’d help me now. I picked up the phone and called her.
“Grandma Rose? It’s Marcus…” I choked, barely holding back tears.
“Marcus? What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.
I told her everything, and she listened quietly before replying, “Do nothing, sweetheart. I’ll be there soon.”
The next day, Grandma Rose arrived at our house, looking fierce. She didn’t waste any time.
“Everyone to the living room. NOW,” she ordered.
Karen glared at her, but Rose didn’t back down.
“How dare you throw a child out of his own home?” Rose demanded, her voice as sharp as a knife.
Karen shot back, “Marcus isn’t a child.”
Rose didn’t hesitate. “Until he finishes school, he is. But that doesn’t matter. This is Marcus’s house. He’s not going anywhere.”
I could hardly believe my ears as Karen scoffed. Rose wasn’t done, though.
“My late sister left this house to Marcus. It’s his since he turned eighteen,” she said, looking at Karen directly.
The room went quiet. Karen’s face twisted with rage, but Rose wasn’t finished.
“And Karen,” she added coolly, “how’s that wine you’ve been drinking? Odd for a pregnant woman.”
Karen’s face turned white. “What? How do you know about that?”
“I saw you at the café with your friend this morning,” Rose replied.
With that, Karen’s lie came crashing down. “There is no baby!” she blurted, panic in her voice.
Dad looked at her, stunned. “You lied?”
Karen scrambled to explain, but Rose’s calm voice stopped her. “Pack your things and go.”
Minutes later, Karen was out of the house. Dad looked at me, his face full of regret.
“I’m sorry, son. I don’t know what came over me.”
For the first time in a long while, I felt safe. I hugged him, the relief washing over me. “I’m glad you’re on my side, Dad,” I whispered.
2. Hate Tore My Family Apart Until My Grandmother Brought Us Together One Last Time with a Great Revelation
Scott and I were heading to Grandma Eleanor’s for her 80th birthday. It had been years since the whole family gathered together—mostly because we didn’t get along. As we pulled up, Scott grumbled, “I still don’t get why we’re here.”
“It’s Grandma’s birthday,” I reminded him, feeling my stomach tighten with nerves. “She’s the only one who still cares about us, and she wants us all together.”
He sighed. “I could be working right now. We need the money.”
“It’s just one evening,” I replied, rubbing my stomach absentmindedly.
Scott chuckled. “If I didn’t know, I wouldn’t notice. But what about telling Grandma?”
“Maybe later,” I whispered.
As we walked toward the door, my brother Michael and his wife, Stacy, came up behind us, and Stacy hobbled in heels, complaining. “I can’t run in these!”
Scott and I exchanged a glance. Stacy only cared about Michael’s money.
We finally rang the doorbell, and Grandma Eleanor greeted us with her usual warm smile. Inside, the table was filled with food.
“Why so much, Grandma?” I asked, impressed.
“Oh, I love doing this,” she said, beaming.
We settled in, but things quickly got tense. Michael asked, “Is Mom coming?”
“She’s not sure,” Grandma replied, her voice a little sad.
I muttered, “Typical. She never has time for us.”
Michael shot me a glare. “Stop. She’s our mom.”
“Yeah, and she hasn’t even wished me a happy birthday in years!” I shot back.
The argument escalated, with insults flying. Scott put a hand on my shoulder, but I pushed him away, angry. “You only have those restaurants because Uncle handed them to you!” I shouted at Michael.
He stood up, fists clenched. “You’ve always been jealous, haven’t you?”
“Jealous of what? Your wife, who’s only after your money?”
“You have it so good, huh?” Michael sneered. “Your husband can barely hold a job. How long have you been trying for kids? Five years? Ten?”
“Go to hell!” I yelled, standing up in fury.
“Enough!” Grandma Eleanor’s voice cut through the chaos as she stood up. “This is my birthday. I brought you all here to celebrate, not to argue! And as for the inheritance…”
My head snapped toward her. “Inheritance?”
Her voice grew stern. “Your grandfather left something for you, but I’m not leaving a penny to either of you until you prove you deserve it.”
Michael shot up. “How do we prove it?”
“Show me you deserve it,” Grandma said softly before leaving the room.
I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, my hands instinctively cradling my stomach. Michael followed, and we exchanged tense words about the inheritance. But deep down, I knew I couldn’t let go of it.
Inside, I found Grandma in her room. “I’m sorry, Grandma, for ruining tonight,” I said, trying to make amends.
She raised an eyebrow. “Is this how you think you’ll win the inheritance? Do you really need it, Camilla?”
I placed my hand on my belly. “Because…”
Just then, Michael burst in, shouting, “Camilla’s lying about me!”
“We weren’t even talking about you,” Grandma said, clearly irritated.
As we returned to the dining room, Mom arrived, her arms wide open. “My darlings!”
She immediately criticized me. “Camilla, have you gained weight?”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the table, trying to ignore the bickering that resumed. Suddenly, Grandma collapsed, clutching her chest.
“Grandma!” I screamed, clutching my stomach. “Call an ambulance!”
Scott rushed to my side. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s starting,” I gasped.
Scott’s eyes widened. “Labor?”
“Yes!” I cried.
Michael stared, shocked. “You were pregnant?!”
Our mom blinked in surprise. “I’m going to be a grandma?”
I screamed for them to call 911. The chaos around me seemed like a dream, and all I could focus on was the life growing inside me.
After I gave birth, I learned the devastating news: Grandma had passed away while I was in labor. But in her belongings, there was a letter for us. It revealed she had known I was pregnant and left her entire inheritance to Scott and our baby. She also asked Michael to divorce Stacy and urged our mom to do better for us and her future grandchild.
Michael, filled with remorse, said, “I’m sorry for what I said, Camilla.”
Our mother, guilt written all over her face, whispered, “Could I… be a real grandma?”
“Maybe,” I replied, holding my newborn. “Her name is Eleanor.”
3. I Thought My Father Was Dead, Only to Find Out a Sinister Truth When We Tried Burying Him
It was a cold, gray day when I stepped out of the car and stood in front of the church. My heart felt heavy as I thought about losing my father. “We couldn’t even give him a proper funeral,” I thought to myself, as the reality of his death sank in.
Bella, Dad’s dog, barked suddenly from the car. She was usually calm, always content to stay in the car during these moments. But today, something was off. Her barking was frantic, more than usual.
“Bella!” I called out, turning to look at her. She was at the window, scratching it with her paws, her eyes wide and desperate.
I signaled to her, hoping she would settle down. After a few moments, she lay down, but her gaze stayed fixed on me.
“Stay, Bella,” I whispered softly, reaching through the window to pat her head.
Reluctantly, I walked into the church, trying to ignore the worry gnawing at me. Inside, the air was heavy with grief, and Dad’s casket stood at the front of the room, roped off. He had passed away from an infection, and I knew this was the last time I would see him.
I sat next to my mother, feeling the weight of never getting a proper goodbye. The quiet was broken as the final hymn began. But just as the music started, Bella’s bark echoed through the church, sharper than ever. I froze, my heart racing, knowing something wasn’t right.
Suddenly, there was a loud crashing sound. Bella had somehow gotten out of the car and jumped on the casket! Flowers flew across the room as she barked and scratched at the lid!
Panic surged through me. I jumped up from my seat. “Open the casket!” I shouted, the words flying from my mouth before I could even think.
The murmurs from the crowd were deafening, but I barely heard them. All I cared about was getting to the truth. Without waiting for anyone else, I threw the casket open myself.
It was empty.
A stunned silence followed. Gasps and whispers filled the air. I turned to the funeral director, my voice rising with desperation. “Where is he?” I demanded.
My mother, overcome with shock, collapsed into my arms, and I barely caught her as she fainted. “Mom!” I shouted, feeling a surge of fear. I rushed her to the hospital, my mind racing with questions. “How could Dad’s body be missing?” I kept wondering, my thoughts swirling in disbelief.
That night, after making sure my mom was okay, I called the police. Detective Bradshaw arrived at my house, looking serious as she spoke.
“The coroner confirmed your father’s death and released the body to the funeral home,” she said, reviewing her notes. “Could your father have been involved in anything dangerous before he died?”
I shook my head. My dad had always been a model businessman, running a successful dog training and rehabilitation center. He had a reputation for honesty and integrity. “No,” I replied, “Dad was a man of good standing. He wouldn’t have been involved in anything like that.”
Detective Bradshaw left without any answers, but I couldn’t just sit back and wait. I had to find out the truth. I decided to go to the morgue on my own the next day.
At the morgue, a nurse greeted me with a cold stare. “The coroner resigned, and there’s no replacement yet,” she told me, sounding disinterested.
I asked for my father’s file, but she refused, so I slipped $1,000 onto the counter. Her eyes flicked to the money, and she reluctantly let me into the coroner’s office. When I opened the file drawer, Dad’s file was gone.
Frustrated, I left the morgue and went straight to my father’s office. There, I logged into his email account, hoping to find something that would explain what happened. But as soon as I opened the inbox, I saw that every single message was deleted. I slammed the laptop shut in anger.
Just then, Dad’s lawyer, Mr. Stevens, walked in. His face was serious, and I could tell something was off.
“Ryan,” he said, “You’re the new CEO of the company.”
“What happened to Dad’s stuff here?” I asked, noticing that two dancer figurines were missing.
Mr. Stevens hesitated. “Your father took them home, supposedly. Though I don’t think he ever found the third one. The collector wants half a million for it.”
I didn’t believe him. I had already searched the house thoroughly while packing up Dad’s things, and those figurines were nowhere to be found.
But there was more. Mr. Stevens continued, “We’re in serious debt. Investors are pulling out. Your father missed several meetings before he disappeared.”
My head spun. “And there’s something else you should know,” Stevens added, lowering his voice. “I believe Arnold had a relationship with his new secretary.”
That hit me hard. I tried to push the anger down, but it was hard. I spent the rest of the day trying to calm investors, but my mind kept racing. That night, I went to track down Dad’s secretary, Miss Pearson.
I tailed her all the way to her house and waited until she drove off. Then, I snuck into her garage, hoping to find something that would explain Dad’s disappearance. Inside, I found a photo of her kissing Dad, framed and displayed proudly on the coffee table.
But that wasn’t all. In a manila envelope, I discovered Dad’s $7 million life insurance policy, with Miss Pearson as the sole beneficiary.
I didn’t waste any time. I took the evidence straight to the police. Detective Bradshaw reviewed the details and confirmed that Miss Pearson was booked on a flight to Morocco, a country with no extradition treaty.
The police were quick to act. They rushed to the airport, but by the time they arrived, Miss Pearson had vanished without a trace.
I refused to give up. My last lead was the third dancer figurine. I found the collector and paid an outrageous $750,000 for it, desperate to catch Dad in the act. I scheduled an auction, hoping Dad would hear about it and show up.
The day of the auction, I hid in the shadows, my heart pounding. At $1 million, I heard a familiar voice call out a bid.
It was Dad.
I stepped forward and blocked his way, just as Detective Bradshaw and her team surrounded him. They slapped handcuffs on him as he glared at me.
“Ryan? You set me up!” Dad spat.
“You faked your death to run off with your mistress, leaving us to grieve over an empty casket!” I shouted, my voice shaking with anger and disbelief.
Dad’s face fell, and he finally confessed. “I wanted a new life… a life without the burden of responsibility.”
My stomach turned with disgust. “You taught me that a man should do what’s right, not follow his selfish desires,” I said coldly. “I hope you remember that.”
As the police took Dad away, I knew that he would finally face the consequences of his actions. The truth had come out, and it had cost him everything.
