Anna returned home from the cafe, packed her belongings, and drove to her grandfather’s house in the countryside. It was a small blue cottage with a wooden door, very different from Anna’s in Cleveland, but here she could find peace and a well-deserved break from housework and, especially, Edward’s lies.
The woman creaked open the gate upon arrival, but as she took a step forward towards the front door, she noticed a man lying unconscious in the yard with a shovel beside him. Blood had covered every square inch of the shovel as if someone had hit him on the head with it.
Anna called 911 right away and rushed the man to the hospital. Fortunately, they made it in time, and the man was out of danger. But when she got home from the hospital, she had another surprise in store for her. Her dear husband Edward was waiting for her at the cottage.
“I have been searching for you the whole day, Anna! You just disappeared without a trace. Where have you been?” Edward inquired.
“Because you were so preoccupied with your work and ‘client meetings,’ I decided to take a vacation with my baby,” Anna said indifferently. “It’s not as if I have to ask you for your permission for everything. Anyway, what are you doing here?”
Edward’s tone abruptly shifted. “Are you upset about something, honey? Do you want me to get you something?”
“No, Edward,” Anna retorted. “Right now, all I need is sleep. So, please move. And, yes, I’ll be sleeping alone, so you can sleep outside on the couch!”
Anna went to bed, but her thoughts kept returning to the man she’d discovered unconscious in her yard. What exactly was he doing here? Was she on the lookout for something? Is he familiar with me? And how did he get a head injury? Her head was racing with questions.
Anna fell asleep while trying to find answers for her inquisitive mind and was awakened by the sun the following day. It was mildly cold, so she reached out for the blanket, but she couldn’t find it.
She awoke, irritated, and was about to yell at Edward if he’d pulled it to his side when she realized she’d been sleeping alone.
However, as Anna looked around the room, she noticed it was in a terrible state. The blanket had been thrown on the floor, her room’s cupboard had open drawers, and her luggage had been opened and rummaged through.
If this is you, Edward, I swear you’re dead today! Anna was furious as she dashed into the living room. But that space was in no better shape. It was even messier than she’d found it when she first entered the house, and Edward was nowhere to be found.
She was about to go outside and check the yard for him, but just then, her gaze was drawn to a crumpled sheet of paper on the ground. When she picked it up, she discovered it was a blueprint for her cottage with a red circle at its center.
She dashed to the loft as it came under the circled region and discovered that, too, was messed up. Edward had vanished as if he didn’t exist, and the yard had been dug out in one corner.
Worried, she was about to call him, but just then she heard a voice from behind. “I’m sorry, but I hope I didn’t disturb you!” it said.
Anna turned around and discovered the man she’d saved the previous day standing at the doorstep. “Oh, it’s you! Are you all right now?” she worriedly inquired.
The man sighed as he looked around Anna’s house, which was in a state of disarray. “I was taken to the hospital on time thanks to your assistance,” he said. “By the way, my name is Andrew. Can I come inside, if you don’t mind? I’d like to speak with you about something…”
Anna offered tea to Andrew, and that’s when he started telling her the whole story. Andrew turned out to have cared for Anna’s grandfather in his final days. So, before his death, her grandfather told the kind man about the treasure hidden in the yard near his house.
“He also gave me a letter,” Andrew explained, “and it was addressed to you to an address in Florida. I went there, but you’d already left, so I waited until you came back so I could give it to you. I wasn’t there on his funeral day; otherwise, we could have met that day.”
Anna opened the letter and began reading it.
“Dear Anna, I hope you’re doing well,” the letter began, “I know it might come as a shock to you, but I have a box hidden in my yard, and there’s a map to it.”
“My grandfather gave it to me before he died, and I wanted to give it to you on your wedding day, but I’m sorry to say that your husband already has his eye on it. Edward is not who he appears to be. He came to see me after you two got married and overheard me talking to Andrew.”
“By the way, Andrew is the man who will most likely deliver this letter to you. The brooch you’ll find inside the box is worth millions of dollars, and it is a relic of our ancestors that has been passed down to us. Edward will not find it as long as he does not obtain the map. I hope you find it and keep it in a safe place. Love, Grandpa Silas.”
As Anna finished the letter, she showed a picture of Edward to Andrew. “Have you seen him around, or do you know him?”
“Oh, yes, he’s the man who comes here often. When I came here that day to clean the yard, I found him here, and he hit me over the head with a shovel.”
When Andrew said that, it all made sense: Edward’s sudden appearance at the cottage and his sudden disappearance. Anna immediately called the police and informed them of the situation. In no time, Edward was apprehended, and he confessed to the theft, and Anna was able to recover the brooch.
After the incident, Anna decided to cut all ties with Edward, who’s serving time in prison, and she and Andrew are now raising her son, Brandon, together.
What can we learn from this story?
You can’t escape karma. Edward decided to flee with the ancient brooch, but he was apprehended and punished for his actions.
Everything in life happens for a reason. If Anna hadn’t caught Edward cheating on her that day, she would never have found out the truth about Edward.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a young mother who found an old crib on her doorstep with an envelope inside.
My Friend Kicked Me Out of His Wedding, His Reason Stunned Me
So, I sold it. The buyer, Ben, seemed like a good guy—enthusiastic about fixing up the place. We shook hands, and just like that, the house, along with its memories, was no longer mine.
A week later, I received a letter via courier. To my surprise, it was in my grandfather’s handwriting. The paper was yellowed with age, as if it had been sitting, waiting for the right moment to be delivered. My hands shook as I opened it. The message was simple but intriguing: “Check the basement of the house.”
Without wasting time, I called Ben. “Hey, it’s Alex. I need to come by the house—there’s something I need to check in the basement.”
Ben, a little puzzled but still friendly, replied, “Sure, come over. The basement’s just as you left it.”
When I arrived, I barely recognized the house. Ben had already started making improvements. The yard was cleared, and the house had a fresh coat of paint. He greeted me at the door, and we headed straight to the basement. It was still dimly lit and musty, filled with cobwebs and old furniture. Ben watched me search, amused but curious.
“You sure your grandfather wasn’t just messing with you?” he joked.
I was beginning to wonder the same thing. But then, I noticed a loose brick in the wall. Behind it was a small, dusty box containing old letters and a key. Ben peered over my shoulder. “What do you think that key unlocks?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. But I had a feeling it was important. After thanking Ben, I took the box and key home, determined to figure out the mystery.
The next day, I returned to the house with a plan. As Ben opened the door, surprised to see me again, I made a bold offer. “Ben, I’d like to buy the house back.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you said it was a burden.”
Taking a deep breath, I explained. “At first, I thought selling was the right choice. But after receiving my grandfather’s letter, I’ve realized this house means more than I ever thought. It’s not just a building; it’s part of my family’s history, a legacy I need to preserve. I can’t let it go.”
Ben considered for a moment. “Well, I’ve already put in a lot of work. You’d have to offer more than what you sold it for.”
I knew this wouldn’t be easy. “How about five grand more?”
Ben shook his head. “Not enough. The market’s good, and I could sell it for a profit. How about twenty grand more?”
My heart sank. Twenty grand was a lot. But I couldn’t lose the house now. “Deal,” I said, though it hurt to agree.
Over the next week, I finalized the paperwork to buy the house back. During this time, I met Clara, a local historian with a passion for old homes. Over coffee, I shared the story of my grandfather’s house, and she was instantly intrigued.
“Your grandfather sounds incredible,” Clara said. “If you ever need help restoring the house or researching its history, I’d love to assist.”
I gratefully accepted her offer. Clara’s enthusiasm breathed new life into my project. Together, we spent hours sifting through old documents, photos, and memories, piecing together the story of the house and its significance.
Finally, with the house back in my name, I returned to the basement, key in hand. Moving aside an old wardrobe, I discovered a hidden door. The key fit perfectly. Behind the door was a small room, and in the center was a modest chest. My heart raced as I opened it, expecting treasure.
Instead, I found a letter in my grandfather’s familiar handwriting and an old poker chip.
The letter read: “I knew you would sell the house, you fool! I always taught you to honor your ancestors and remember your roots. Yet, you sold it off without a second thought. Let this be a lesson to you.”
At the bottom, in a playful tone, it said: “P.S. I put something in here, so here’s an old poker chip—worthless! Consider it a lucky charm.”
I sat there, the letter in hand, disappointed at first, but then understanding hit me. My grandfather, ever the trickster, had orchestrated this whole experience to teach me a valuable lesson. The house wasn’t just about property or money—it was about honoring the past and valuing what truly matters.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I decided to keep the house and turn it into a family retreat. What I once saw as a burden now felt like a treasure—a connection to my roots and a place where future memories would be made.
Over the months that followed, the house underwent a transformation. With Clara’s help, I restored it, blending its old charm with fresh beginnings. The house, once dilapidated, became a place of laughter and love—a symbol of family heritage.
As the final touches were added, Clara and I grew closer, spending more and more time together. The house wasn’t just a part of my past anymore—it had become a symbol of our future, a place filled with love, memories, and the lessons my grandfather had so cleverly imparted.
In the end, my grandfather had left me far more than a house. He’d left me a legacy, a lesson about family, roots, and the importance of holding on to the things that truly matter.
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