Chris Harvey, an 87-year-old man, never expected that a simple hospital stay would reveal a shocking betrayal from his own family. When he suffered a heart episode, he called 911, fearing it was serious. The doctors assured him they needed to run more tests before discharging him. Feeling vulnerable, Chris called his daughter, Angelina, who lived in Miami.
“Dad, don’t worry. I’m going to work something out. But I can’t visit you at all because I don’t have any more PTO at work,” Angelina explained apologetically over the phone.
Chris sighed but tried to stay optimistic. “Ok, darling. The doctors are just being cautious because of my age. They’ll tell me more soon enough.”
While Angelina couldn’t come, she insisted that her son, Peter, go to Austin, Texas, to check on his grandfather and make sure his home was ready for him when he returned.
“Peter, you need to be there for your grandfather. Who knows how much time he has left? You’re his only grandson. Remember that,” she urged.
Peter hesitated. “I don’t know if I can, Mom.”
“You should go. He always said you’d inherit his house. Maybe you can see what repairs it might need so he can live comfortably for however long he has left.”
Peter went silent for a moment. Then, in a strange tone, he finally said, “Ok, ok. I’ll go. Hannah will come with me. I think I can ask for some time off work.”
“Good. Thank you, son. I trust you to help him. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom. Bye.”
Angelina had no idea what her son was really thinking.
A few days later, the doctors prescribed Chris several medications and discharged him with strict instructions to rest and avoid strain. But something was bothering him—Angelina hadn’t called the day before, and he had no way of reaching Peter. Still, he hoped his grandson was waiting for him at home.
Chris took a cab from the hospital, but as soon as he arrived, a strange sight greeted him. His furniture was sitting outside on the front lawn. His door, which had been shut when the paramedics took him away, was now slightly ajar.
With growing unease, he stepped inside and froze.
His house was empty.
All his belongings—his paintings, military memorabilia, his credenza, his kitchen table—everything was gone. The walls were lined with plastic sheets as if someone had been painting or doing construction.
“Hello?” he called out, his voice shaky.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway, and Peter appeared, looking startled.
“Grandpa?” Peter asked, clearly not expecting him.
Chris let out a breath of relief. “Peter! Thank God! I thought someone broke in and stole everything. What’s going on here, my boy?”
Peter hesitated, his lips pressing together. “Oh… well. No one broke in.”
“Then what happened?” Chris demanded, his sharp eyes scanning the empty room.
“We… we actually wanted to surprise you,” Peter started, glancing toward the hallway. “Hannah!”
His wife, Hannah, emerged, her expression unreadable. “Hmm, Mr. Harvey. Hello there.”
Chris smiled warmly, kissing her cheek. “Lovely to see you, dear. Now, what’s this all about?”
Peter and Hannah exchanged a quick, uneasy glance before Peter finally spoke. “We wanted to remodel the house before you got back. It needed some TLC, and we figured it would make you happy. But you got discharged earlier than we expected.”
Chris beamed. “That’s very thoughtful! I hope you’re not spending too much money.”
“Oh no, don’t worry. I know a guy,” Hannah said, smiling awkwardly.
“And my things?” Chris asked.
“They’re in storage,” Peter replied quickly. “Except a few things we wanted to replace. Those are outside waiting for garbage pickup. But don’t worry, your bedroom is untouched.”
Chris hugged them both. “You two are amazing! Thank you. Now, I need to pick up my prescriptions. I’ll be back soon.”
“Sure!” they chorused, smiling too brightly.
Chris left for the pharmacy, but when he returned, he overheard a conversation that stopped him in his tracks.
“What are we going to do, you idiot?” Hannah snapped at Peter.
“Hannah, calm down. It just messes with our plans a bit.”
“A bit? A BIT? You told me he was dying, and this was going to be OUR house! I wouldn’t have spent a dime if I knew he was coming back!”
Chris felt his heart sink.
“It’s fine,” Peter assured her. “The house will be mine eventually, and he has tons of money saved up. Think of it as an investment.”
“NO! We are NOT spending another dime! We’re leaving tomorrow!”
Chris clenched his fists and turned back toward the door, pretending to return from the pharmacy.
“I’m back!” he called out.
Peter and Hannah acted like nothing was wrong. They laughed, chatted, and ate spaghetti on the empty living room floor. But Chris had heard everything.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Peter, I wanted to talk to you about something. I’ve been thinking about moving into a nursing home. It seems like the right choice. And I think you two should have the house.”
Peter and Hannah’s eyes lit up. “Are you serious?” Peter asked eagerly.
“Yes, I’m serious.”
“Thank you, Grandpa! This is an honor! We’ll make the house look amazing!”
Over the next few weeks, Peter and Hannah poured money into remodeling. Chris watched quietly. Then, he suggested throwing a housewarming party.
That night, with guests gathered, Chris stood up, raising a glass.
“I’d like to make a toast… to my grandson and his lovely wife. I want to thank them for all the work they’ve done on my house… because I’m going to enjoy it for the rest of my life.”
Peter and Hannah’s faces drained of color.
“Did you all know they came here thinking I was about to die? They took my belongings, spent money on renovations, and assumed they would inherit my house. When I came back from the hospital, they even planned to leave me here alone!”
Gasps filled the room. Peter tried to intervene. “Grandpa, let’s talk—”
“No need. I heard you. Well, guess what? I revised my will. This house is going to charity when I’m gone!”
Silence.
“Now,” Chris said, his voice firm, “EVERYONE GET OUT OF MY HOUSE BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE!”
Peter and Hannah’s friends scrambled to leave. Peter yelled, but Chris cut him off. “GET OUT!”
The next day, Chris told Angelina everything. She was horrified and ashamed but understood his decision.
“Are you comfortable cutting Peter off completely?” she asked.
“He cut me off the moment he decided to claim my house before I was even gone,” Chris said. “Watch your back, honey.”
Chris lived another eleven years. And as promised, his house was sold, with all proceeds donated to a charity for senior citizens.
Moral of the Story:
- No one is entitled to another person’s property. Peter assumed the house was his and disregarded his grandfather’s well-being.
- Sometimes, cutting off toxic family members is necessary. Chris chose peace over betrayal.
- Greed can blind people, but karma never does.
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