Anna hurriedly climbed the stairs of the notary office, nearly half an hour late for the meeting. The city traffic jams were terrible, and the bus had broken down halfway. Her heart was pounding not just from the brisk walk but also from anxiety. Today, the inheritance case following her grandmother’s death was to be settled.
In the waiting room sat her mother, Valentina Petrovna, and her brother, Mikhail. Her mother was dressed festively, in a new suit, with a satisfied smile playing on her face. Mikhail looked calm and confident, flipping through some documents.
“Finally!” exclaimed her mother upon seeing her daughter. “We’ve been waiting for half an hour!”
“Sorry, the bus broke down,” Anna replied, out of breath.
“You always have some problem,” Valentina Petrovna shook her head. “Good thing it’s not a critical delay.”
Anna sat in a free chair and looked around. The notary office looked respectable — oak furniture, leather chairs, diplomas and certificates on the walls. Behind a large desk sat the notary, a man about fifty years old with attentive eyes.
“So,” he began as everyone settled, “we are gathered for the reading of the will of Maria Ivanovna Sergeeva. Before we start, I must clarify: are all the heirs present?”
“Yes,” nodded Valentina Petrovna. “I am the daughter of the deceased, and Mikhail and Anna are the grandchildren.”
The notary opened a folder with documents.
“Good. But I must say, the situation is somewhat unusual. We have two wills.”
“Two?” Mikhail asked in surprise.
“One will is dated last year, and the other was made just a month ago.”
Valentina Petrovna frowned.
“A month ago? But mother was already ill, hospitalized…”
“Nevertheless, the will was drawn up fully in accordance with the law, in the presence of witnesses. According to the later document, it is the valid one.”
Anna felt something tighten in her chest. She had always been close to her grandmother, but in recent months her mother had strictly forbidden her to visit the sick woman, claiming that grandmother needed peace.
“And what does this will say?” Valentina Petrovna asked nervously.
The notary put on his glasses and unfolded the document.
“According to last year’s will, all property — the apartment, the summer house, and the funds — were to be divided equally between the daughter Valentina Petrovna and the grandchildren Mikhail and Anna.”
“Well,” the mother rejoiced, “that’s fair, evenly split.”
“However,” the notary continued, “there are significant changes in the later will.”
Mikhail leaned forward.
“What changes?”
“According to the new will, the apartment and the entire sum of money go entirely to granddaughter Anna Sergeevna.”
A dead silence fell. Anna could hardly believe her ears.
“How can that be?” Valentina Petrovna jumped up. “That’s impossible!”
“I’m afraid it is possible. The will was signed in the presence of two witnesses, and a medical report confirms the testator’s competence at the time of signing.”
“But why?” Mikhail asked confused. “Why did grandmother change the will?”
The notary leafed through the papers.
“There is an explanatory note written in Maria Ivanovna’s own hand. I can read it aloud if you wish.”
“Read it,” Anna said firmly.
“‘All my life, I tried to be fair to my children and grandchildren. But in the last months, I realized who truly loves me. Valentina and Mikhail visited me only when they needed something. But Annushka came just to talk, bring treats, help around the house. When I fell ill, only she wanted to care for me, but Valentina would not let her in. Therefore, I leave everything to the most caring and loving granddaughter.’”
Valentina Petrovna went pale.
“That’s not true! I forbade Anna from coming because mother was very ill!”
“And did you visit mother in the hospital often?” the notary asked.
“I… worked a lot… didn’t always manage…”
“And you, Mikhail Sergeevich?”
Mikhail was silent, staring at the floor.
Anna felt awkward. She truly loved her grandmother but had never thought about the inheritance.
“Wait,” she said. “Could the will be forged? Maybe someone took advantage of grandmother’s illness?”
The notary shook his head.
“Impossible. The will was made in my presence. Maria Ivanovna was of clear mind, answered all questions, and dictated the explanatory note herself.”
“But I’m the daughter!” Valentina Petrovna protested. “A mother can’t leave her daughter without inheritance!”
“Legally she can, if there are other heirs. A will is the deceased’s expression of will.”
Suddenly Mikhail stood.
“Anna, maybe we should make a deal ourselves? Split everything fairly, like in the first will?”
“Misha is right,” supported the mother. “You can’t take everything for yourself! We are family!”
Anna was confused. On one hand, she understood her mother and brother were counting on the inheritance. On the other — this was her grandmother’s will.
“I don’t know… I need to think.”
“What is there to think about?” Valentina Petrovna jumped up. “We gave your inheritance to your brother; you don’t need it!”
“How did you give it away?” Anna was stunned.
“Like this! Mikhail needs it more! He has a family and children! And you live alone; you don’t need much!”
“Mom, but the will is made out to Anna,” the notary intervened. “No one can force her to refuse the inheritance.”
“I’m not forcing! I’m just explaining that you need to be fair!”
Anna looked at her mother and brother. In their eyes she saw greed and calculation. She remembered how her mother really didn’t let her visit her sick grandmother, saying Anna only upset the old lady with her visits.
“No,” she said quietly. “I will not refuse the will.”
“What do you mean you won’t?” her mother was outraged.
“It is grandmother’s will. And she knew what she was doing.”
“Anna, think about it,” Mikhail pleaded. “I have a mortgage on the apartment, children go to kindergarten…”
“And I have a mortgage,” Anna answered. “And a small salary. I don’t live richly either.”
“But you’re alone! It’s easier for you!”
“Why easier? Because I don’t have a family?”
Valentina Petrovna stood and glared at her daughter threateningly.
“Anna, if you don’t share the inheritance, I won’t speak to you! Ever!”
“Mom, that’s blackmail.”
“That’s justice! A mother has the right to inherit from her mother!”
“She does. But grandmother decided otherwise.”
The notary patiently waited while the family argued.
“So,” he finally said, “Anna Sergeevna, do you accept the inheritance?”
“I accept,” Anna answered firmly.
“In that case, we need to complete all the paperwork. But first, I must read another part of the will.”
“More?” Mikhail was surprised.
“Yes. Maria Ivanovna anticipated a possible family conflict over the inheritance.”
The notary turned the page.
“‘If my family quarrels over money, I ask the following to be done. To Valentina, I leave my jewelry and photo albums. To Mikhail, grandfather’s watch and books. Also, each of them will receive one hundred thousand rubles from my savings. This should be enough for them to understand — I loved them too, but justice is more important.’”
Valentina Petrovna and Mikhail exchanged looks.
“So we still get something?” the mother asked.
“Yes. Maria Ivanovna did not leave anyone completely without inheritance.”
“One hundred thousand…” Mikhail said thoughtfully. “That’s something.”
“And mother’s jewelry is expensive,” Valentina Petrovna added. “There’s a diamond ring.”
Anna listened and understood her grandmother had truly prepared for everything. She knew her family and was ready for their reaction.
“And the summer house?” Anna asked the notary.
“The summer house remains with you. But the will requests that relatives be allowed to sometimes rest there.”
“Of course,” Anna nodded. “The summer house is large; there’s room for everyone.”
Mikhail suddenly smiled.
“You know, Anya, maybe grandmother was right. You really cared for her the most.”
“Misha!” the mother objected.
“Mom, come on. We hardly ever went to visit grandmother. But Anya was there every weekend.”
Valentina Petrovna was silent, then sighed.
“Maybe so. But it still hurts.”
“Mom,” Anna said gently, “I’m not greedy. If you ever need anything, I’ll help. We are family after all.”
“Will you sell the apartment?” Mikhail asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll move there. It’s more mine, and the neighborhood is nice.”
“And your own apartment?”
“I’ll sell it, pay off the mortgage.”
The notary began preparing the documents. The procedure took more than an hour — many papers had to be signed, seals stamped, fees paid.
“Congratulations on the inheritance,” he said at the end. “The documents will be ready in a week.”
Leaving the office, the family was silent. Outside, Valentina Petrovna stopped.
“Anya, of course I’m upset. But you’re right — that was mother’s will.”
“Mom, I understand you hoped for more.”
“We hoped…” the mother smiled sadly. “Maybe we all should have spent more time with grandmother while she was alive.”
“Mom, she loved you. She just wanted us to understand that.”
Mikhail hugged his sister.
“Anya, I won’t be mad at you. Grandmother was wise; she knew what she was doing.”
“Thanks, Misha.”
“And can we really use the summer house?”
“Of course. Come in summer with the kids, like before.”
They reached the bus stop and waited.
“You know,” Valentina Petrovna suddenly said, “I remembered how mother said in the hospital: ‘Only Annushka understands me.’ And I thought it was just the illness affecting her.”
“Not illness,” Anna answered. “She just felt who really needed her.”
The bus arrived. Sitting by the window, Anna thought of her grandmother. The old woman had managed to teach her family a lesson even after death. A lesson that love and attention cannot be replaced by money, and justice sometimes looks different than it seems at first glance.
In the evening, Anna came to her grandmother’s apartment. She opened the door with the key she had had since the owner’s lifetime. The hallway smelled of grandmother’s perfume and old books. On the table lay a note written in a familiar handwriting: “Annushka, if you’re reading this, it means everything went as it should. Don’t be sad that the family quarreled. They will understand and forgive. And you live here and be happy. I love you. Grandma Masha.”
Anna pressed the note to her heart and cried. But these were not tears of sorrow, but tears of gratitude to the wise old woman who continued to care for her even after death.
