I Promised Each of My Five Grandkids a $2 Million Inheritance – in the End, No One Got It

I’m 90 years old, widower, and fed up with being overlooked. I so pledged a $2 million inheritance to each of my five grandchildren, subject to one particular condition.

None of them suspected that I was testing them, and they all consented and complied.

I’m 90 years old, and my name is Eleanor. I never imagined that I would be narrating such a narrative, but here we are.

It’s often said that family is everything. Family members occasionally don’t even know what that word implies.

George, my late husband, and I reared three children together. We had eleven great-grandchildren and five grandchildren.

Family members occasionally forget

what the word actually means.

You would assume that a family would stay together because of all that history, all the years of bruised knees that I bandaged, homework that I helped with, and cookies that I cooked.

You would be mistaken.

The house became quieter after George’s death.

There was less ringing on the phone. Holidays seemed like relics of the past, and birthdays came and went with cards that were three days late.

It became quieter in the house.

We used to get together for supper on Sundays, but now it’s just another day I spend by myself with my TV and my memories.

I would extend invitations. I used to text or contact people to see if they wanted to join me for lunch, coffee, or just to sit on the porch as we used to.

It was always the same response.

“Sorry, Grandma, I’m busy.”

The response was

The same thing every time.

busy. constantly occupied.

Too busy for the woman who had taught them how to bake bread, fix a tire, believe in themselves, and sewed their Halloween costumes by hand. She had also stayed up all night when they were ill.

I’m not bitter now, at least not really.

The woman is too busy.

who had spent the entire night

when they were ill.

However, I am a human, and people are limited.

I therefore made the decision to give them a lesson.

Not by shouting at them, reprimanding them, or making them feel guilty. I intended to allow them to learn on their own by being greedy.

I had a notebook and a cup of tea at my kitchen table one Sunday afternoon.

I chose to become a teacher.

teach them a lesson.

I could hear the clock ticking on the wall since the place was so silent.

I meticulously outlined my strategy, considering every aspect.

If each grandchild could prove one thing, I would promise them a $2 million inheritance.

I began with Susan, my granddaughter. She is a thirty-year-old single mother who works three jobs. She hardly sleeps.

The thing about Susan, though, is that she was constantly concerned.

I meticulously outlined my strategy,

considering every aspect.

She would text me good night even when she was tired.

She would still visit me with the children. Sure, not frequently enough, but more than the others.

A Saturday morning, I knocked on her door. She appeared as though she had been struck by a truck when she opened the door.

She said, “Gran? What brings you here so early?”

When she opened the door, she looked

as if a truck had struck her.

I said with a charming smile, “Oh, darling.” “I wanted to talk about the will. Nothing too serious. Just a little chat.”

Suddenly, Susan appeared concerned.

“Gran, I really don’t have time right now. I’ve got the kids, and I have to be at work in an hour, and—”

Whispering, “I promise, sweetheart,” “It’ll be worth your while.”

Her eyes brightened slightly.

“I wanted to talk about the will.”

I said, “Can I come in?”

I entered her small house after she moved aside.

A pile of dishes was in the sink, and toys were strewn all over the floor. The air was heavy with the stench of burnt bread.

It was a difficult life for Susan. That was evident to me.

I started right away as we sat at the kitchen table.

I entered her small house.

“I want to make you the heir to my $2 million estate,” I said plainly.

Susan’s jaw dropped. “Gran, that’s—”

“But there’s a condition.”

She scowled. “A condition?”

“Yes,” I responded as I leaned across the table. “It’s very simple…”

“I would like you to be the heir.”

to my estate of $2 million,”

“First of all, your brothers mustn’t know,” I said. “This has to stay between us. It’s our secret. Can you do that?”

I could see Susan’s mind working.

“What do I have to do?” she cautiously inquired.

“You’ll have to visit me every week. Keep me company and make sure I’m okay. That’s all. Simple, right?”

She gave a blink.

“What do I have to do?”

“You mean just you and me? Like, spending time together?”

I gave a nod.

Susan gripped my hand as she reached across the table. “Okay, Gran. I can do that.”

I grinned. I wasn’t putting all of my eggs in one basket, even if I had great expectations for Susan.

I made four more stops after leaving her residence.

When I got out of her house,

I stopped four more times.

I made the same offer to each of my five grandchildren when I visited them.

And what do you know? They were all in agreement.

They didn’t ask me why I had singled them out.

They simply grabbed for the millions of dollars that were hanging in front of them with both hands.

So my little experiment started.

And so it started.

My small experiment.

From then on, they visited once a week.

You know, I was cautious about it. To prevent them from unintentionally running into each other, I planned their visits for alternate days.

At first, I really enjoyed the company. It felt like a gift to have my grandchildren back in my life after spending so many months alone.

However, it was quickly apparent how different they were from one another.

I planned their visits.

on several days.

Susan always showed up with a big smile and open arms on Monday mornings.

Before I could even greet her, she would start asking questions when she knocked on my door.

She would ask, already on her way to my kitchen, “Did you eat breakfast today, Gran?” “When’s the last time you had a real meal?”

She brought flowers, made soup that filled the house with the aroma of herbs and garlic, and cleaned floors without being asked.

Before I had a chance to greet you,

She would be inquiring.

She sat next to me on the couch and shared her concerns, hopes for the future, and her children’s most recent exploits.

One afternoon, she said to me, “I think I might go back to school,” “Get my degree. The kids are getting older, and maybe I could make something more of myself.”

“You’ve already made something beautiful,” I murmured, holding her hand tightly. “Look at those children. Look at how hard you work. That’s something.”

She took a seat on the couch next to me.

and discussed her children.

The boys were not like that.

I’ll give them credit for trying at start. During the first few weeks, Michael was punctual and occasionally brought a small gift. Peter assisted me in fixing a faulty faucet, and Sam occasionally delivered groceries.

However, after that, the visits began to deteriorate.

The visits began

taking a negative turn.

They first began to become shorter.

And then the whining began.

One Tuesday, after checking his phone three times in fifteen minutes, Michael inquired, “How much longer do you want to sit here, Gran?” “I’ve got a thing later.”

Sam jokingly said, “Nothing new ever happens here,” during one of his visits.

The grumbling began.

Harry began to hardly glance at me and spend the majority of the time browsing through stuff on his phone.

I heard, “Man, this is boring,” several times.

Sometimes they would stay for less than the required hour.

They would engage in small talk without paying any attention to the response.

I saw it all unfold. Actually, I took notes.

They would engage in small chat,

yet fail to pay attention to the response.

I recorded who brought what, who asked what questions, and who seemed genuinely interested in attending as opposed to others who were only showing up.

It was the best I could do, but it was by no means an ideal method of gauging attachment.

That’s how three months went.

I finally made the decision to call it quits on the experiment and tell the truth.

It was time to go.

the test and

expose the reality.

I summoned everyone to a meeting.

When they all arrived at my place on Saturday afternoon, you ought to have seen their expressions.

They sat on the couch and chairs George and I had chosen forty years prior in my living room.

No one spoke. As they waited for an explanation, they simply glanced at me and then at each other.

I gave them all a call.

over for a meeting.

“I owe you all an explanation,” I replied. “I lied to you.”

Their expressions became tense. Michael bent over. Sam folded his arms.

“I told all of you the same thing about getting my inheritance and gave each of you the same condition. I did this to test you. I wanted to see who would keep visiting me, who would actually care. And you all did. You all came every week, just like I asked.”

The room exploded.

“I lied to you.”

Michael stood forward and screamed, “So who gets the money?”

“That wasn’t fair,” Sam yelled. “You tricked us. You played with us.”

Peter went on, “This is manipulation,” “You can’t just do that to people.”

Harry sat there looking deceived. Susan looked bewildered between me and her brothers.

I held up my hand. “Quiet, please. There’s one more lie I told you.”

“There’s one more lie I told you.”

“See, there is no money,” I replied. “I don’t have a penny to leave to any of you.”

A pin drop may have been heard. Everyone simply gazed at me as if I had developed an additional head.

Then the rage returned.

“You conniving old woman!”

Sam jumped out of his seat and made his way to the entrance. “I’m done with these mind games, and I’m done with you!”

Then the rage returned.

Harry murmured, “What a waste of time,” as he trailed behind his brother.

“Unbelievable,” Peter remarked.

As they marched to the door, I yelled.

“I’m sorry for lying! I was lonely… nobody ever visited me anymore.”

They disregarded me. My grandchildren were all gone in no time.

Everyone but Susan.

They disregarded me.

All of my grandchildren will soon

were absent.

In the midst of all that chaos, she sat there and watched me sit by myself while her brothers left.

Susan came over, put her arms around me, and drew me in when the house fell silent once more.

“Gran, are you okay? Do you need financial help?”

At that point, everything became quite evident.

That was the time.

Everything became pretty evident.

“Oh, Susan! I’m sorry, but I lied about the money. I do have $2 million, but I needed to know who would still care if it disappeared. Since you’re the only one left, you’ll get all of it.”

Susan gave a headshake.

“Gran, I don’t need your money. I just got a promotion at work. We’re finally doing okay. The kids have what they need. We’re going to be fine.”

“Now that you’re the last one remaining,

You’ll receive everything.”

“If you want,” she went on, “put it in a trust for the kids. Let them have it for college or whatever they need when they grow up. But I never came for the money, Gran. I came for you.”

In order to ensure that everything would go into a trust for Susan’s children when I passed away, I modified my will.

Susan continues to visit on Mondays.

She wants to because she loves me, not because she has to anymore.