Anton had always treated himself the boss of his life. While others were plodding through textbooks, Anton was already busy with business. Sometimes he was reselling cars, other times he was collecting computers to order. It was then that he met Albina. She was a humble honor student, studying a foreign language.
They became lovers. Then, they got married. Soon their firstborn, Dimka, was born. Albina threw herself wholeheartedly into motherhood. A couple of years later, a daughter, Lenochka, arrived. Taking care of two little ones wasted all her time and energy. Albina wanted to hire a nanny.
But Anton rejected it.
Children should be cared for by their mother. Anton said that he was investing everything in developing his business. Meanwhile, he’d buy a big TV, or a car for himself, or go out with friends. And when Albina required a hairdryer, her husband said that her old one was just good.
Time passed away. The children grew up and started school. Albina began to feel lonely and tired. If Albina asked him to go somewhere, Anton would say he was busy while he always found time to meet with his friends.
— We’d better get divorce, — Anton blurted out. — I’m tired of this whole family game. I have my own life. And I need freedom.
— Break up? — Albina said. — What about the children? What about me?
— Well, you’ll be fine, — Anton shrugged. — You’re a mother, after all. You’ll handle somehow.
That very evening, Anton moved out, pick up all his things. Albina couldn’t believe that her comfortable life had destr0yed overnight. She began to find a job. She had to leave the children with a neighbor.
With great difficulty, she handled to get a job as a cleaner at a shopping mall.
It wasn’t the job Albina had wanted, She had to take on extra shifts at night. Albina was ripped between work and home. And then she would be busted in the evenings.
— Mommy, why are you always at work? — little Lena asked. — I miss you so much.
— I’m sorry, sweetheart, — Albina sighed. — I need to earn money to buy us food and clothes.
— And what about Daddy? He earns a lot. Why doesn’t he help us?
Albina didn’t know what to say. Anton had seemingly disappeared from their lives.
Albina barely controlled to get time off from work and went to the office. There, she was in for a sh0ck. It happened that grandfather had been quietly buying shares of various companies throughout his life. And now he had left his entire inheritance to his beloved granddaughter.
Albina couldn’t believe her ears.
She remembered how grandfather always said, “Save your pennies, granddaughter. They’ll come in handy someday.” Now shae understood it.
Albina decided to use the money shrewdly.
She entered in professional development courses to return to her field. And part of the funds was invested in a small business. She opened a café in their neighborhood.
She was happy in working in the dining area sometimes—it helps her feel better the café’s atmosphere and chat with the patrons.
Albina naturally turned to welcome the new guests—and froze. He is Anton. Next to him was a young, striking blonde. She approached the table the couple had chosen.
— Good afternoon. What would you like to order? — Albina said.
Anton looked up from the menu and stared at his ex-wife in sh0ck:
— Albina? Are you working here as a waitress?
— Yes, I work here, — the woman replied calmly. — So, what will you have?
— Two cappuccinos and croissants, — Anton said. — Look at you, down on your luck. I thought you were still working as a cleaner. – he smirked.
— Your order will be ready in a few minutes, — she said.
When Albina brought the order, Anton couldn’t continue commenting again:
— You’re doing pretty well. Maybe serving coffee really is your calling?
Albina said nothing.
— Albina! How are you? So, shall we discuss our proposal? Are you free now?
Albina smiled:
— Well, as you can see, I’m working a bit on the side.
The second man laughed.
— You, as usual. In your situation, everyone is in offices, and here you are, out among the people.
Albina said:
— Enjoy your meal.
Anton sat there, mouth agape.
— So you’re the owner? — he finally managed to ask.
Albina smiled:
— Yes, this is my cafe’. Enjoy. If you need anything, you can ask the waitress Lena.
And Albina came into the office. She could experience her ex-husband’s surprised gaze on her back. It was obvious that she had finally let go of the past.
Boss Fires Poor Gardener, Humiliating Him—On His Last Day, He Finds a Buried Box in the Backyard
After the spoiled heir of the estate he’s tended for decades cruelly fired Arthur, the humiliated gardener visited one special garden one last time. As he reminisced, Arthur noticed something strange, leading him to make a life-changing discovery.
I was on my knees in the east garden, hands deep in the cool soil, when Margaret from the kitchen staff rushed over, her face flushed with worry.
A woman hurrying through a garden | Source: Midjourney
“Arthur, have you heard? Mr. Stuart is coming home today. He’s taking over everything.”
I nodded slowly, carefully placing another bulb into the ground. “Yes, I heard.”
I’d been dreading this day since old Mr. Jared passed. For years, I’d tended these grounds and watched the seasons change from behind my wheelbarrow, pruning shears in hand.
A wheelbarrow filled with pruned foliage and garden tools | Source: Pexels
This estate knew my footprints better than any place on earth. And now Stuart was coming home to claim his inheritance.
“What will happen to us?” Margaret asked, her voice small against the vastness of the estate.
“We do our jobs,” I said simply. “That’s all we can do.”
A man transplanting a young plant | Source: Pexels
What I didn’t say was how my heart ached when I thought about Jared. He wasn’t just my employer — he was my friend.
We’d spent countless hours working side by side in the small garden behind the main house. There, among the climbing roses and stubborn weeds, we’d shared stories, silence, and laughter.
“Grandpa, I finished my homework. Can I help with the planting?”
A teen boy smiling at someone | Source: Midjourney
Eli, my 14-year-old grandson, stood at the garden’s edge.
Since the accident two years ago that took my daughter and her husband, Eli had been my reason for waking up each morning. He was polite, studious, and hungry for books in a way that amazed me.
“Sure, come on over. We’re putting in the spring bulbs.”
Plastic crates filled with bulbs and plants | Source: Pexels
We worked in comfortable silence until the sound of tires on gravel broke through the morning calm. A sleek car pulled up to the main house and out stepped Stuart.
“Is that him?” Eli whispered.
I nodded, watching as Stuart surveyed the property. It had been many years since I’d last seen him, but he had the same air of arrogance and entitlement as when he was a rude boy who pulled up the irises to spite me.
A haughty man standing near a luxury car | Source: Midjourney
“Remember what I told you,” I said quietly. “Be respectful, keep your distance, and—”
“Never let anyone make me feel small,” Eli finished. “I remember, Grandpa.”
The first few weeks with Stuart in charge were worse than I’d imagined.
The staff walked on eggshells as he inspected corners for dust and fired people for minor infractions.
A tense cleaner arranging a pair of slippers near a bed | Source: Pexels
Where Jared had been kind and thoughtful, his son was impatient and cruel.
“Arthur, isn’t it?” Stuart asked one afternoon, as though we’d never met before. “The gardener my father was so fond of.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, stopping my work to face him.
“These hedges look uneven. And those roses are half dead,” he declared. “My father may have tolerated mediocrity, but I expect excellence.”
A man examining a hedge | Source: Midjourney
I bit my tongue. “I’ll see to it right away, sir.”
“See that you do.”
As he walked away, I took a deep breath and returned to my pruning. I tried to forget Stuart’s criticism and his pretense at not knowing me, but I was concerned. I couldn’t afford to lose this job.
A man pruning a plant | Source: Pexels
The weeks turned into months, and with each passing day, Stuart’s parties grew louder, and his friends grew more reckless.
They’d roar through the gardens in expensive cars, laughing as they knocked over planters and scattered gravel.
The once peaceful estate became a playground for the rich and careless to party.
People partying | Source: Pexels
One morning in late summer, I was preparing to compost the beds when I heard angry footsteps approaching. Stuart stormed toward me, his face flushed with rage.
“You! Old man!”
My heart sank. Margaret had warned me to steer clear of Stuart that morning. Apparently, his latest gold-digging girlfriend had left him to go skiing in Switzerland, and Stuart was on a rampage.
A man staring at someone with wide eyes | Source: Midjourney
I straightened up slowly, my knees creaking in protest. “Good morning, Mr. Stuart.”
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me. Did you see what happened to my car? Someone scratched the paint. Was it your grandson? That quiet, sneaky kid?”
“Eli was at school yesterday, sir. He’s been there all week for the summer program.”
“Well, someone did it. And since you’re supposed to be watching this place—”
“I’m the gardener, sir. Not security.”
A man working in a garden | Source: Midjourney
I instantly regretted my words, but it was too late. Stuart’s face contorted with anger.
“You know what? I’ve had enough of your attitude. You think because my father liked you, you’re untouchable? You call this work?” He kicked at a pile of weeds I’d pulled. “My dog could rake better than you! You’re nothing but a leftover from my father’s pity. Consider this your last day. I want you off my property by sunset.”
A shouting man | Source: Midjourney
The words hit hard, but I kept my expression neutral. As he stomped away, I felt a strange calm wash over me. Maybe it was for the best.
I removed my uniform overalls and walked to the garden Jared and I had tended together. I hadn’t touched this spot since Jared died because the memories were too painful.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jared,” I said as I kneeled by the garden. “The least I can do for you before I go is clear away the weeds.”
A man in a garden staring sadly at the plants | Source: Midjourney
As I was working, I noticed a patch of ground that had been disturbed.
It wasn’t recent, but I knew this garden better than the back of my hand and someone had been digging here and left half the bulbs to wither and die on the surface.
I dug into the earth with my hands. Soon, I felt a hard surface beneath my fingers. I cleared away the dirt and soon uncovered a small wooden chest, sealed with a simple latch.
A chest in a hole | Source: Midjourney
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Inside, neatly arranged, were bundles of cash, small gold bars, and a folded note. I recognized Jared’s handwriting immediately.
“This is for you, friend. I know you need this! I love you. Your friend, Jared.”
Tears fell onto the paper as I clutched it to my chest.
A sad man staring down at something | Source: Midjourney
Even in death, Jared had found a way to look after us. The cruel irony wasn’t lost on me — being fired had led me to this discovery, this last gift from a true friend.
I left the estate without another word to Stuart.
The next day, I went to the bank and opened a safe deposit box. I transferred everything from Jared’s box into it and placed it in Eli’s name. Not for now, but for his future.
Safety deposit boxes | Source: Pexels
I found work maintaining the grounds at the local high school. The pay wasn’t much, but it was honest work, and I could be close to Eli during the day.
Two years passed faster than I expected.
Eli thrived in school — he was top of his class and his teachers were talking about scholarships and potential. He grew taller and stronger but kept his gentle nature and curious mind.
A cheerful teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
“Grandpa, I got accepted into the summer science program,” he announced one evening, waving the acceptance letter.
“That’s wonderful news,” I said, genuinely proud. “Your parents would be so proud of you.”
“Do you think Mr. Jared would be proud too?”
The question caught me off guard. “Yes, I think he would be very proud.”
AN earnest teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
While we built our new life, news of Stuart’s downfall reached us through Margaret, who still worked at the estate.
His recklessness had finally caught up with him. He lost everything — the estate, the cars, and whatever illusion of control he’d once had.
“They say he’s moving out next week,” Margaret told me when we met for coffee. “The bank’s selling the place.”
The interior of a cozy coffee shop | Source: Pexels
I nodded, feeling no satisfaction in his misfortune. “That’s a shame.”
“A shame? After how he treated you? Arthur, you’re too kind for your own good.”
Perhaps I was. But bitterness was a luxury I couldn’t afford, not with Eli watching and learning from every reaction, every word.
One evening, as Eli and I walked toward the park, he asked me a question that had been on his mind.
A thoughtful teen boy on a city street | Source: Midjourney
“Grandpa, are you ever going to tell me what was in that box you brought from the estate?”
I looked at him — no longer a boy, but not quite a man — and saw in him the future Jared had helped secure.
“When you’re ready,” I said with a small smile. “When the time is right.”
“And when will that be?”
A man and his grandson entering a city park | Source: Midjourney
“When you’ve built a foundation strong enough that it won’t change who you are.” I squeezed his shoulder gently. “Some gifts aren’t meant to be opened right away.”
As we continued our walk, I thought about Jared, about the garden we’d tended together, and about the seeds we plant that grow long after we’re gone. Some in soil, some in souls. Both lasting far beyond what we can see.
Leave a Reply