Curious, I removed the collar.
Inside the tag was a tiny key.
I followed the address to the train station.
Locker 153 opened with a soft click.
Inside was a folder.
On it were the words: For Meredith.
The letter inside was written in Grandma’s familiar handwriting.
She explained everything.
Her estate would go only to the person who took Berta without expecting anything in return.
The one who acted out of kindness, not greed.
That person was me.
Before I could process it, my family appeared.
They had followed me.
Accusations flew.
Demands echoed.
Then the lawyer stepped in.
Prepared.
Firm.
Unmovable.
The will was legal.
The conditions were fulfilled.
The inheritance was mine.
Later, sitting in my car, I asked why Grandma did it this way.
The lawyer smiled softly.
“She wanted her money to serve decency.”
