I thought I was just a caregiver for Mrs. Blackwood, a sharp-tongued, secretive woman, until her decision to rewrite her will in my favor—cutting out her own grandchildren—pulled me into a storm of family secrets and deception.
I was young, unemployed, and uncertain about my future. I had a nursing diploma in hand but no job prospects. Weeks of unsuccessful interviews left me restless, staring at an uncertain road ahead.
Then, one morning, as I flipped through the newspaper, an ad caught my eye:
“Nanny needed for an elderly lady who cannot walk. Live-in position.”
A live-in job meant a place to stay and a steady income—something I desperately needed. Without hesitation, I called the number listed and scheduled an interview.
The house was grand, with ivy creeping up its weathered brick walls. It had the eerie charm of a place that held too many secrets. As I rang the doorbell, my stomach twisted with nerves.
A young man, maybe in his early twenties, opened the door. He had an air of polite indifference about him.
“You must be here for the nanny position,” he said, offering a small, practiced smile. “I’m Edward.”
Before I could reply, a young woman appeared behind him.
“And I’m Emily,” she said, her voice friendly but distant, as if this was just another task on her list. “Grandma’s expecting you.”
They led me inside with minimal conversation. Something about their behavior felt off. They were neither cold nor particularly warm—just… indifferent, as if their only concern was completing a formality.
“Grandma’s upstairs,” Edward said, gesturing toward the staircase. “We’ll let her take it from here.”
And with that, they disappeared, leaving me to face Mrs. Blackwood alone.
Mrs. Blackwood was not what I expected. I had imagined a frail, helpless old woman, but the lady before me, though confined to a wheelchair, exuded sharp wit and control. Her silver hair was styled to perfection, her nails polished, her presence commanding.
“Ah, you must be Mia,” she greeted, her voice rich with authority. “Come in, dear. Sit down.”
I hesitated. Her dark eyes sparkled as she studied me, as if she could see straight through me.
“Don’t just stand there,” she teased, patting the edge of her bed. “Sit! Have a doughnut. No one should face the world hungry.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, cautiously taking one from the plate beside her.
“So, tell me,” she said, leaning back slightly. “Why do you want this job?”
I swallowed my bite, choosing my words carefully. “I need it. And I believe I can help you.”
She nodded approvingly. “Honesty. That’s rare these days. Well, Mia, welcome aboard.”
And just like that, my life in the Blackwood house began.
The first few days were uneventful. I assisted Mrs. Blackwood with her daily routine, listened to her endless stories, and settled into the household. But soon, I noticed strange things happening.
A book moved on her nightstand.
“Did you read this last night, Mrs. Blackwood?” I asked, holding it up.
She chuckled. “I don’t sleepwalk, dear.”
The curtains, which I distinctly remembered leaving open, were drawn shut the next morning. The flowers in her room, which I hadn’t touched, were mysteriously watered.
“Are your grandchildren checking in on you at night?” I asked one morning, trying to sound casual.
She laughed. “Oh, no. Edward and Emily live here, but they rarely bother with me before bed.”
“Then… someone’s moving things,” I pressed.
She merely smiled. “They’ll come when the will is read.”
Something was off. Her words were like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mrs. Blackwood was hiding something—from me, from her grandchildren, maybe even from herself.
To break the eerie atmosphere, I introduced some changes. I insisted on having dinner in the dining room instead of her eating alone in her bedroom.
“There’s something special about a proper dinner table,” I said, setting the plates. “It makes everything feel more… lively.”
Mrs. Blackwood raised an eyebrow but allowed it.
When Edward and Emily arrived, they froze in the doorway.
“What’s this?” Emily asked, frowning.
“Dinner,” I replied cheerfully. “It’s nice to eat together, don’t you think?”
Edward hesitated. “But Grandma always eats in her room.”
“Well, not anymore,” I said firmly, pulling out a chair. “She deserves company.”
They exchanged looks but sat down. Though their expressions remained stiff, I saw a flicker of something in their eyes—guilt, perhaps?
Later, I introduced reading nights. Twice a week, we took turns reading aloud. Mrs. Blackwood adored it. Edward and Emily… not so much. They soon started skipping.
Then, one evening, they both showed up—unexpectedly.
“Grandma,” Edward began, clearing his throat. “We wanted to talk to you.”
Emily jumped in. “We’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time for us to move out.”
Mrs. Blackwood tilted her head. “Move out?”
“We found a place downtown,” Edward said quickly. “We just need… a little help with the deposit and rent.”
Silence. Then, Mrs. Blackwood smiled—a slow, deliberate smile.
“Well, isn’t that convenient?” she mused. “Since we’re all sharing news, I have some of my own.”
Edward frowned. “What news?”
“My lawyer is coming next week. I’m making changes to my will.”
Emily’s fork clattered onto her plate. “Changes?”
“Yes. I’ve decided to leave everything to Mia.”
“You’re joking!” Emily gasped.
Mrs. Blackwood sipped her tea. “Oh, I’m quite serious.”
Overnight, Edward and Emily transformed into model grandchildren. Flowers, breakfast trays, endless flattery. Mrs. Blackwood saw through it all.
One evening, Edward approached me.
“We’ve decided your services are no longer needed.”
I nodded. “Alright. I’ll pack my things.”
As I turned to leave, Mrs. Blackwood called me into her room. She handed me an envelope filled with cash.
“Rent a car,” she instructed. “Park it near the house at midnight. Wait in the garden. Be ready for anything.”
I blinked. “What’s going to happen?”
She smiled slyly. “Just trust me.”
That night, I did as she asked. The house lights flickered off. My pulse raced. Then, the back door creaked open, and a cloaked figure emerged.
“Mrs. Blackwood?” I whispered.
“Come,” she urged.
She moved like a woman half her age. When we reached the jeep, she slid into the driver’s seat.
“Wait… you can drive?” I stammered.
She smirked. “Did you think I spent all my time in bed for fun?”
She drove into the night, explaining everything. The ghostly movements, her seeming frailty—it was all part of her plan. Edward and Emily had taken her for granted. It was time they learned to stand on their own.
Mrs. Blackwood rewrote her will, leaving me a generous gift and donating the rest. Edward and Emily, faced with reality, chose to change.
As for me, I found my own place, resumed my hospital internship, and carried with me the greatest lesson of all—the value of self-worth and the unexpected bonds that change our lives forever.
