Money. It’s said to be the root of all evil, but it’s not the paper or coins themselves that change people. It’s the way it brings out the true colors of those who come into contact with it. In the stories below, people let greed, jealousy, and desperation tear families apart – and sometimes, it was the unexpected twist of fate that turned everything around.
From a daughter trying to kick her stepson out of the house to manipulate her husband, to a grandmother using her inheritance to teach her children a lesson, and even a life insurance scam gone wrong – these three stories will leave you questioning what people will do for money.
1. My Stepmom Tried Kicking Me Out, Only to Discover Something Shocking About Our House That Turned the Tables Around
It was one of those exhausting days. College by day, part-time job at the gaming store by night – I was drained. I didn’t want this job, but my dad’s income could cover my expenses, and my stepmom, Karen, insisted that I work to “learn responsibility.”
When I walked through the door, Karen immediately started on me, “Why are you late? You were supposed to clean today!”
I tried to stay calm, “I had a long day, Karen. I’ll clean tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? That’s not how responsibility works, Marcus,” she snapped, crossing her arms.
“Is cleaning really that hard?” I shot back, trying not to lose my cool. “You’re home all day, after all.”
Karen’s face turned red. “How dare YOU speak to ME like that!”
At that moment, my dad walked in and looked between us. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Marcus refuses to clean,” Karen said, pointing her finger at me.
“I’m not refusing. I said I’d do it tomorrow. I’m just tired,” I explained, trying to stay calm.
Dad sighed and glanced at Karen. “He’ll do it tomorrow. Let’s drop it.”
Relieved, I made my way upstairs, but just as I was about to enter my room, Dad called out, “Don’t go anywhere, son. We have news to share.”
I dragged myself back downstairs and sat down at the table. A cold plate of leftovers sat in front of me. As I poked at the food, I felt both of their eyes on me.
“What’s the news?” I asked, trying to hide my exhaustion.
Dad exchanged a look with Karen before announcing, “We’re pregnant!”
I froze. “Uh… congratulations,” I forced a smile, my stomach sinking.
But Karen didn’t look pleased. Dad’s voice faltered, “Son, I don’t know how to say this, but…”
“Actually, Marcus,” Karen interrupted, her voice cold, “YOU need to move out.”
“What? Dad, what is she talking about?!” I stammered, my mind spinning.
Karen didn’t even flinch. “We’re having a baby. We need to make space for the child. You’re in the way. You’ll be a burden.”
My heart dropped. “Where will I go? I work part-time and study full-time! I can’t afford rent! This is my home, too! Dad, please!”
Dad just looked at me, his face full of discomfort, but he didn’t say anything.
Realizing I was on my own, I shouted, “You know what? You two can go to hell!” I stormed off to my room and slammed the door shut.
Lying in bed that night, feeling more alone than ever, I listened closely to the muffled voices outside my door.
Dad was speaking, but his words lacked conviction. “Maybe he should stay until he finishes school…”
But Karen’s voice was sharp, “No, Tom. He has to go.”
The next morning, Karen barged into my room without knocking. “You have three days to figure it out,” she demanded.
I was too angry to speak. “I can’t find a place in three days! I’m a student with a part-time job!” But she was already walking away.
I felt lost. But then, I thought of Grandma Rose. Maybe she could help. I quickly grabbed my phone, my hands shaking.
“Grandma Rose, it’s Marcus. I need your help. Please, they’re kicking me out.”
“Marcus, what’s wrong?” Grandma’s voice was soft and full of concern.
I spilled everything, my voice thick with emotion. Grandma didn’t say much, but she finally spoke in a calm, steady voice. “Don’t do anything, sweetheart. I’ll be there soon.”
The next day, Grandma Rose arrived at our door, her eyes filled with determination. Without missing a beat, she ordered, “Everyone to the living room. NOW.”
Karen stood frozen, glaring at Grandma. But Grandma wasn’t backing down.
“How dare you throw a child out of his home?” Grandma demanded, her voice firm and unyielding.
“Marcus isn’t a child,” Karen snapped, trying to defend herself.
“Until he finishes school, he is,” Grandma replied, then delivered the real blow. “But none of this matters. This is Marcus’s house. He’s not going anywhere.”
I blinked, completely shocked. “What?”
Grandma turned to face Karen with an icy stare. “Marcus’s late grandmother left him this house when she passed away. It’s been his since he turned eighteen.”
Silence fell. Karen’s face twisted with rage, but Grandma wasn’t finished.
“By the way, Karen, how’s that wine you were drinking? Not very fitting for a pregnant woman, is it?”
Karen’s face went pale. “What do you mean?” she stammered.
“I saw you this morning at the café,” Grandma said with a smirk.
Karen’s face turned white. “There’s no baby!” she cried out, her secret exposed.
Dad looked at her, speechless. “You lied?” he whispered.
Grandma’s voice remained calm. “Pack your things and go.”
In an instant, Karen was gone. Dad turned to me, regret washing over his face. “I’m sorry, son. I don’t know what came over me.”
And just like that, I finally felt like I was home again. For the first time in a long while, I felt safe.
2. Hate Tore My Family Apart Until My Grandmother Brought Us Together One Last Time with a Great Revelation
Scott and I were driving to Grandma Eleanor’s house for her 80th birthday. It was the first time in years that the whole family was getting together. We barely spoke to each other anymore, not after all the fights, the jealousy, the hurt feelings.
As Scott parked the car, he grumbled, “I don’t get why we’re here.”
I sighed, rubbing my growing belly. “It’s Grandma’s birthday. She’s the only kind one in this whole family. She wanted us all together.”
Scott shook his head, frustrated. “I could be working right now. You know we need the money.”
I patted my stomach, trying to keep calm. “It’s just one evening, Scott.”
We walked to the door, and as we rang the doorbell, my brother Michael and his wife, Stacy, appeared. Stacy was stumbling in heels, complaining, “I can’t run in these!”
I rolled my eyes. Everyone knew Stacy only stuck around for Michael’s money.
We all entered the house, and Grandma Eleanor greeted us with a warm hug. Inside, the dining table was piled high with food.
“Why so much food, Grandma?” I asked, touched by her generosity.
“I love doing this,” she replied with a smile.
We all sat down, but it wasn’t long before tension filled the air. Michael asked, “Mom’s not here yet?”
“She’s not sure she can make it,” Grandma said softly.
I muttered, “Typical. She never has time for us.”
Michael shot me a sharp look. “Stop. She’s our mom.”
“Yeah? And she hasn’t wished me a happy birthday in years,” I shot back, my anger bubbling up.
Suddenly, Michael’s voice rose. “You act like you’re perfect, Camilla! Mom had her career to focus on!”
I snapped back, “And she chose that career over us!”
Scott put a hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me. “Camilla, maybe just…”
I ignored him, turning to Michael. “You only have your restaurants because Uncle handed them to you!”
Michael’s fists clenched. “You’ve always been jealous of me, haven’t you?”
“Jealous of what? That you’re stuck with a wife who only wants your money?” I fired back.
That’s when the argument truly escalated. My grandmother stood, raising her hand. “Enough!” she shouted, cutting through the chaos. “This is my birthday. I didn’t bring you here to fight.”
“Wait, what’s going on with the inheritance?” I asked, my ears perking up at the word.
Grandma’s voice turned serious. “Your grandfather left something for you, but I won’t be leaving a penny to either of you unless you prove you deserve it and earn my trust.”
Michael leaned forward. “How do we prove that?”
Grandma’s eyes grew stern. “Show me you deserve it.”
Later, outside in the chilly air, I found myself talking with Michael. “We might have an inheritance,” he said, his voice tight.
“If you hadn’t ruined things…” I started, but Michael interrupted.
“Me? You started it!”
“Michael, I need this inheritance,” I hesitated before adding, “Scott and I… we need it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why should I step aside for you?”
Just as we returned to the house, I found Grandma in her room. I apologized for ruining her night. “Grandma, let me help you with anything,” I said.
Grandma raised an eyebrow. “Is this how you think you’ll earn the inheritance?”
I glanced down at my stomach, “I really need it.”
Just then, Michael burst in. “Camilla’s lying about me, Grandma!”
“We weren’t even talking about you,” Grandma said dryly.
Suddenly, Mom arrived, all smiles. “Oh, Camilla, have you gained weight?”
I rolled my eyes. The bickering started again, but it all stopped when Grandma collapsed. We all rushed to her side.
“Grandma!” I screamed, clutching my stomach. “Call an ambulance!”
Scott gripped my hand. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s starting…” I gasped.
“Labor?” Scott asked, his eyes wide.
“Yes!” I screamed.
Michael looked at me, shocked. “You were pregnant?!”
Our mother gasped, “I’m going to be a grandma?!”
At the hospital, Grandma’s condition worsened. I refused to give birth until I knew if she was okay.
After what felt like an eternity, our baby girl was born. But when I woke up, Michael entered, looking somber.
“Grandma passed away while you were in labor,” he said quietly.
Later, a nurse came in with a letter. “This was found among your grandmother’s things.”
The letter revealed the shocking truth: Grandma had known I was pregnant and had left her entire inheritance to me, to Scott, and to our baby. She even wrote a note urging Michael to divorce his wife and to ask our mother to do better for us and our child.
Michael looked down, remorseful. “I’m sorry for what I said, Camilla.”
Our mom, tears in her eyes, whispered, “Could I… could I be a real grandma?”
I held my newborn daughter close and smiled. “Maybe,” I said softly. “Her name is Eleanor.”
3. I Thought My Father Was Dead, Only to Find Out a Sinister Truth When We Tried Burying Him
It felt like a heavy weight had settled in my chest as I stepped out of the car. The church loomed before me, and with every step I took, the reality of losing my father hit me harder. “We couldn’t even give him a proper funeral,” I thought bitterly. The thought of saying goodbye properly was slipping through my fingers, just like everything else.
Suddenly, I heard a loud bark from inside the car. Bella, my dad’s dog, was usually calm. She never made a fuss when left alone in the car. But today, she was different. I turned to see her frantic, paws scratching at the window, her eyes wide with distress.
“Bella!” I called, trying to soothe her. I gave her a hand signal, and slowly, she lay down, though her eyes were locked on me, still unsettled.
“Stay, Bella,” I whispered, reaching through the window to pat her head, trying to calm both of us.
I left her there, whining softly behind me, and walked into the church. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and there he was—the empty casket at the front, surrounded by flowers. My heart sank. I joined my mother, who was already sitting quietly, her face pale, her hands trembling. I could already feel that this wouldn’t be an ordinary funeral.
As the mournful hymn began, I heard a sudden bark from outside, and then another. Bella! It was louder now, growing more frantic. Before I could process what was happening, there was a loud crash as Bella, somehow freed from the car, jumped onto the casket. The flowers scattered, and she was scratching at the lid, barking like her life depended on it.
My instincts kicked in. “Open the casket!” I yelled.
The murmurs in the church were deafening, but I didn’t care. In a panic, I ran forward, throwing open the lid myself. The casket was… empty.
A gasp echoed through the church. I could barely hear it over the blood rushing in my ears as I turned to the funeral director. “Where is he?” I demanded, my voice shaking with anger and disbelief.
My mother’s knees gave way, and I caught her just before she collapsed. “Mom!” I shouted as I helped her to the ground. Her face was ghostly pale. I grabbed her and rushed her to the hospital, my mind racing with questions I couldn’t answer. “How could his body be missing?” I whispered to myself. This wasn’t possible. It had to be a mistake.
That night, after everything had calmed down, I called the police. Detective Bradshaw was the one who showed up. She listened as I told her the strange, impossible story.
“The coroner confirmed your father’s death and released the body to the funeral home,” she said. “Could your father have been involved in something risky before he died?”
My dad was the last person to get involved in anything shady. He was a respected businessman who ran a dog training and rehabilitation center. Never once had he put our family in danger. But with no answers, Detective Bradshaw left. I wasn’t willing to give up just yet. I needed to know the truth.
I left Bella at home and headed straight to the morgue. At the desk, a nurse informed me that the coroner had resigned, and there was no replacement yet. When I asked for Dad’s file, she refused to give it to me, but I slipped her $1,000. She hesitated, then turned a blind eye as I made my way into the coroner’s office. The file I needed was gone. Everything was gone.
Frustrated and exhausted, I headed to my father’s office next. As I opened his email account, I found that every single message had been deleted. Panic rose in my throat. What was going on?
Just then, Dad’s lawyer, Mr. Stevens, walked in. His face was grave, his tone serious. “Ryan,” he said, “You’re the new CEO of the company.”
“Wait, what happened to Dad’s things?” I asked, noticing the two missing dancer figurines on the shelf.
Mr. Stevens looked uncomfortable. “Your father took them home. Though I don’t think he ever found the third one—the collector wants half a million dollars for it.”
I couldn’t believe it. I had searched our house top to bottom when we were packing up Dad’s things. The figurines weren’t there. Something was definitely off.
Mr. Stevens also dropped another bombshell. “We’re in severe debt, Ryan. Investors have been pulling out since your father stopped attending meetings months ago.”
My mind was spinning. Debt? Missing figurines? But it didn’t end there. “And there’s something else. I believe Arnold—your father—was having a relationship with his new secretary.”
That sent a wave of anger through me. My father, my dad, who had always taught me the importance of loyalty, had been hiding things from us all along.
I needed answers. That night, I tracked down Dad’s secretary, Miss Pearson. I followed her to her house, and when she parked, I snuck in through the garage. Inside her house, I found a photo of her kissing Dad. That was all I needed to see.
I looked around and found a manila envelope on the coffee table. Inside was Dad’s $7 million life insurance policy—with Miss Pearson listed as the sole beneficiary.
I raced to the police. “I’ve got proof!” I shouted, handing them the evidence. Hours later, they confirmed that Miss Pearson was already booked on a flight to Morocco. There was no extradition treaty with the country. She was getting away.
Detective Bradshaw quickly organized a team and rushed to the airport. They searched the crowd, but Miss Pearson had already slipped through the cracks. She was gone.
But I wasn’t giving up. I had one last lead. The third dancer figurine. The collector had it, and I knew I had to get it. I paid an outrageous $750,000 for it and scheduled an auction, hoping against hope that this would get my dad’s attention.
The day of the auction, I waited in the shadows, my heart racing. At $1 million, I heard a familiar voice. It was him. My dad.
I stepped forward, blocking his way. Detective Bradshaw was right behind me, handcuffs in hand.
Dad looked at me, his face twisted with anger. “Ryan? You set me up!” he shouted.
“You faked your death!” I screamed back. “You left us to grieve over an empty casket while you ran off with your mistress!”
Dad’s face crumpled, and he finally admitted the truth. “I did it for a new life. A fresh start.”
My stomach turned. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You taught me that a man should do what’s right,” I said coldly. “You’ve broken every lesson you ever taught me.”
Detective Bradshaw assured me that Miss Pearson wouldn’t get far. As they took my father away, I felt a strange relief. He would face the consequences of his actions. Finally.
As the police car drove off, I looked around. The life I knew had crumbled, but the truth was out. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for me to rebuild.
