**Diary Entry**
Our dear Nan had always been the backbone of our family. With her endless kindness and deep pockets, she’d helped us through university fees, mortgage deposits, even the odd holiday. But as time passed, her once-healthy savings began to shrink. By the time she moved in with my brother Edward, the woman who’d always been our safety net now relied on us for support.
At first, it seemed perfect—Nan helping with chores, cooking Sunday roasts, and doting on her grandchildren. But as her financial aid faded, Edward’s patience waned. He muttered about bills, rolling his eyes whenever she asked for anything.
Then, one night, my phone rang. Nan’s voice trembled. “Edward… he told me to go,” she whispered. “Says I’ve nothing left to give—that I’m a burden.”
Fuming, I raced to Edward’s house in Manchester. He stood stiffly at the door, arms folded. “She’s spent everything,” he said bluntly. “I can’t afford to keep her.”
“Afford?” I spat. “She paid for your degree, helped buy this house—raised us with love. Is this how you thank her?”
“She chose to spend her money,” he said coldly. “I’ve my own family now.”
Disgusted, I bundled Nan into my car, swearing she’d never feel unwanted again. At my place, she wept softly. “I never thought he’d do this,” she said, dabbing her eyes.
But beneath the hurt, I saw a flicker of steel.
The next morning, Nan vanished into her room, reappearing with old papers and a knowing smile. “Time Edward learned a lesson,” she declared.
Turns out, Nan still owned a prime plot in Surrey—her secret nest egg. Within weeks, she sold it for a hefty sum. Rather than split it with Edward, she donated most to Age UK, helping abandoned elderly folk. The rest? She spent on cruises and afternoon teas.
But she wasn’t finished. She arranged a charity gala, inviting Edward’s colleagues and neighbours. When he arrived, the charity praised Nan’s generosity. Then she stood, her gaze sharp. “True wealth isn’t money,” she said, staring right at him. “It’s love, respect, and knowing what matters. Lose that, and you’ve lost everything.”
The room burst into applause. Edward sat rigid, face ashen. Later, he stammered an apology. Nan smiled softly. “Forgiven. But never forgotten.”
From then on, Nan lived as she pleased—loved, cherished. And Edward? Left to reckon with the price of greed. A lesson he’ll carry forever.
