The moment I saw my brother driving around in a shiny red convertible, I knew something was wrong. Little did I know, that car was the key to a betrayal I never saw coming—and a plan Gran had been putting into motion long before she left.
My name is Juniper. I’m 26 now, and I’ve been living out of state for four years. It was honestly the best decision I’ve ever made: to get away from my family and all the pain that came with it.
I never felt like I was part of them. My parents had always favored my older brother, Maverick. You could say he was the golden boy, but that’s not even close. Growing up, I was just… there. The “replacement,” as Gran would joke, though there was always a certain tenderness in her voice when she said it.
That’s part of why I left. Well, that, and Noel, my boyfriend. He convinced me it was time to live for myself, to create something outside the shadow of my family.
We packed up our little car and I drove with him into the city, away from my parents and Maverick and all the memories.
“Noel, I swear, I couldn’t stay there anymore,” I’d told him one day over dinner. I still remember the way he’d smiled at me across the table, his hand reaching out to grab mine.
“You don’t have to explain it to me again, June. You did the right thing,” he’d reassured me, squeezing my hand. “You deserve better than being second best.”
Even after four years away, I barely spoke to my family. Calls were less frequent, texts were a rare formality. My parents? They didn’t seem to care, honestly. It was like I had just disappeared from their lives. The only person who stayed in touch with me was Gran.
She was the only person in my family who made me feel important. When I was younger, she would steal candy bars from me when my mother wasn’t looking, or call me late at night just to see how my day was.
An elderly woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
Gran didn’t care if it was boring or if I felt like my life was a disaster. She just listened.
And then one day, I found out she had died. Accidentally. No calls, no messages, nothing. Can you believe it? I was scrolling through Facebook, of all places, and saw a post from an old family friend. Gran’s picture. A date and a note, “Rest in peace.”
I couldn’t breathe. I stared at my phone, waiting for things to make sense, but they didn’t. It felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.
I dropped my phone on the table, stood up, and whispered, “Gran’s gone.”
Noel looked up from the couch. “What? What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She’s dead. No one even told me.” I could feel the sting of tears, but it was more than sadness; it was anger and maybe betrayal. “How could they not tell me?”
Noel was up in a second, hugging me, but it made no sense. Why hadn’t my parents called me? Not even Maverick. Nothing.
I booked a flight home that night.
I didn’t care what it cost—I had to go to Gran’s grave. I had to say goodbye, at least on my own terms. The next morning, I found myself walking through my hometown, the place I hadn’t seen in years, the place I’d fought so hard to escape. Everything was as I remembered it, except for one thing.
I blinked, stunned. “The… what?”
As I stood on the street corner near the cemetery, I saw something that made my blood run cold. My brother, Maverick, was driving by in a shiny red convertible.
Maverick? The one who still worked as a cashier, barely making ends meet? He was driving a red convertible that looked like it cost more than his life savings.
My stomach churned. Something was wrong.
Later that day, I found myself standing by Gran’s grave, the soft rustling of the trees the only sound around me. The earth was still cool, and I couldn’t shake the knot in my stomach. Gran was truly gone. I hadn’t gotten a chance to say goodbye properly: no chance to tell her how much she meant to me.
The pain of learning of her death through a Facebook post still stung like an open wound.
As I knelt by the grave, I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up to see Mr. Anderson, Gran’s best friend. He was a kind, middle-aged man, always by Gran’s side, helping her with anything she needed. His face was somber as he approached.
Juniper, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, standing next to me. “Your grandmother… she was a one-of-a-kind woman.” »
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She really was. I just wish I could have spent more time with her.”
He nodded, his gaze distant. Then, after a moment of silence, he turned to me and asked, “Did you get the $20,000 she left you?”
I blinked, stunned. “The… what?”
Mr. Anderson’s brow furrowed. “Your grandmother. She said in her will that she set aside $20,000 for you. I just assumed you knew that.”
My heart sank. Suddenly, the red convertible Maverick was driving made sense. The anger boiling inside me boiled over. “No,” I mumbled, standing up, my fists clenched at my sides. “I didn’t know.”
Mr. Anderson’s face paled. “Oh, Juniper, I’m so sorry.”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. I had to get to Maverick’s trailer. Now.
I sped back to my car, my mind racing. Maverick, who had never been able to hold down a steady job, was suddenly driving around in a flashy car, and I didn’t think twice about it? Of course, it was my money. Money Gran had left me—the only person in my family who truly cared about me—and he stole it without a second thought.
When I pulled up to Maverick’s trailer, I was ready for a full-on confrontation. But what I saw stopped me in my tracks. There, crumpled in the driveway, was the red convertible, completely destroyed. The front bumper was smashed, the windshield shattered, and the tires looked flat, as if the car had been in a serious accident.
And there, standing in the doorway of his battered trailer, was Maverick. He was leaning on crutches, a cast covering his leg, and his face was covered in bruises, a mess of cuts and scrapes.
Karma had already caught up with him.
I stepped closer to him, my anger replaced momentarily by shock. “Maverick, what happened?”
He shifted uncomfortably on his crutches, his eyes averting from mine. “It’s… it’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” I gestured toward the wrecked car. “It doesn’t look like nothing. What did you do? And why did you take Gran’s money, Maverick?”
He grimaced, knowing he couldn’t avoid it anymore. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this, Juniper. I… I thought I’d just borrow it. I’d pay you back. But then I saw that car, and…”
“Borrow it?” I was incredulous. “You don’t just borrow twenty thousand dollars that wasn’t left for you. Gran left me that money, and you took it like it was nothing. And now look at you. This is karma, Maverick. This is what you deserve.”
Maverick opened his mouth to protest, but I wasn’t done. “You always took everything. My parents’ attention, their affection: it was always about you. But this? This was different. This came from Gran, the only person who truly cared about me, and you stole it.”
Maverick hung his head. “I screwed up, okay?” I thought…”
“What did you think?” I said. “That I wouldn’t find out? That I didn’t deserve what Gran left me?”
He didn’t have an answer. We stood there in silence, the weight of everything weighing on me. Then, just as I was about to turn and leave, my phone rang in my pocket. It was Mr. Clearwater, Gran’s lawyer.
“Mr. Clearwater?” I said, my eyes still on Maverick.
“Juniper, I looked through your grandmother’s will,” Mr. Clearwater said. His voice was calm and collected, as if he knew I needed reassurance. “There’s something you need to know. Your grandmother predicted this might happen.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.
“She knew Maverick might try to take the money, so she had a plan in place. The $20,000 was just part of her estate. The rest—her house, her savings, her investments—is yours, Juniper. She left you everything.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Everything?”
“Yes, everything,” Mr. Clearwater confirmed. “Your grandmother made it very clear. She wanted to make sure you were taken care of, so you wouldn’t have to depend on anyone.”
Tears prickled my eyes, but they weren’t just tears of sadness. Gran knew. She’d seen this coming, every moment, and she’d protected me as only she could. Even in death, she still looked out for me; she still showed me that I mattered.
I took a deep breath, calming myself as I looked at Maverick. “I hope that convertible was worth it, Maverick. I hope you enjoyed the ride.”
“Juniper, I…” he began, his voice shaking.
I held up a hand, interrupting him. “Don’t do that. I’m done with the apologies, Maverick. Keep it.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away, leaving him there, broken in more ways than one. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like the forgotten brother. Gran had made sure that happened.