Money has often been called the root of all evil, but it’s not money that truly changes people—it’s how they react when they have it. The following stories show how money brought out the true nature of people.
These three tales reveal a stepmother who tried to take control of her husband’s life and money, a family torn apart by greed, and someone who faked their own death to claim a life insurance policy. Let’s dive in.
1. My Stepmom Tried Kicking Me Out, Only to Discover Something Shocking About Our House That Turned the Tables Around
I had just finished a long day of work. College classes all morning, then a shift at the gaming store. I was exhausted, but I didn’t mind—my dad’s salary covered everything, and this part-time job wasn’t even something I wanted. But my stepmom, Karen, insisted it would “teach me responsibility,” so I went along with it.
As I walked in that evening, my dad and Karen were waiting for me. She immediately started, “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.”
But she wasn’t having it. “Tomorrow? That’s not how responsibility works, Marcus.” Her voice was sharp.
I couldn’t keep it in anymore. “You’re home all day. Is cleaning really that hard for you?”
Her face went red. “How dare YOU speak to ME like that!”
Right then, Dad came into the room, looking confused. “What’s going on here?”
“Marcus refuses to clean,” Karen said, crossing her arms.
“I’m not refusing. I just said I’ll do it tomorrow,” I explained, feeling the frustration rise in my chest.
Dad sighed, glancing at Karen, then back at me. “He’ll clean tomorrow. Let’s leave it at that.”
I was about to head to my room, relieved the argument was over, when Dad stopped me. “Wait, Marcus. Don’t go. We have something important to tell you.”
I nodded, feeling a knot in my stomach. What could this be about? When he came to get me, I dragged myself downstairs. The smell of cold leftovers filled the room, but I barely noticed. As I sat at the table, Karen and Dad’s eyes were fixed on me.
“What’s the news?” I asked, my voice shaky.
Dad looked at Karen, his eyes full of excitement. “We’re pregnant!”
I froze, nearly choking. “Uh… congratulations,” I forced out.
Dad was thrilled, but Karen looked like she’d just swallowed something bitter.
Dad, trying to stay serious, turned to me. “Marcus… I don’t know how to say this… but…”
Before he could finish, Karen cut him off. “Marcus, you need to move out.”
I stared at her. “What? Dad, what is she talking about?”
Karen’s eyes didn’t flicker. “With the baby coming, we need to make space. You’re just in the way.”
My stomach twisted. “Where will I go? I can’t afford rent, I work part-time, and I’m still in school! This is my home too, Dad. Please, say something!”
Dad looked torn, glancing between Karen and me, but he stayed silent.
I couldn’t take it. “You know what? Fine! You two can go to hell!” I shouted, storming off to my room, slamming the door behind me.
That night, I lay there in the dark, feeling like I’d been abandoned. They couldn’t just throw me out, could they? I pressed my ear to the door, hearing their voices muffled.
Dad sounded unsure. “Maybe Marcus should stay until he finishes school…”
But Karen’s voice was firm. “No. He has to go.”
I felt my heart break. I was all alone.
The next morning, I was still in shock when Karen walked into my room without knocking. “You have three days to figure it out,” she said coldly.
“I can’t afford anything in three days!” I shouted, but she didn’t respond. She just turned and left.
I called my Grandma Rose, hoping she’d help. “Grandma Rose, it’s Marcus…” I couldn’t hold back the tears.
She was quiet for a moment, then said firmly, “Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.”
The next day, my grandma’s sister, who was just as strong-willed as Rose, arrived at our house. She walked straight in, no hesitation.
“Everyone in the living room. Now,” she ordered.
Karen’s glare met Grandma’s, but Grandma didn’t flinch.
“How dare you throw a child out of his own home?” Grandma’s voice was icy.
“Marcus isn’t a child,” Karen snapped.
“Until he finishes school, he is,” Grandma replied. “And this isn’t just about you two. This is Marcus’s house, and he’s not going anywhere.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Grandma’s voice was calm but firm. “My late sister left this house to Marcus. It’s his.”
Karen’s face turned pale. “What? How do you know that?”
“I saw you this morning at the café with your friend, Karen,” Grandma said, a knowing look in her eyes. “And you’ve been drinking wine while ‘pregnant.’”
Karen’s face went white. “What? How did you—”
“There’s no baby!” Karen shouted, her secret slipping out.
Dad was stunned. “You lied? All this time?”
Grandma turned to Karen, her tone unyielding. “Pack your things. And leave.”
Within minutes, Karen was gone. Dad looked at me with regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry, son. I don’t know what came over me.”
I could hardly believe it, but I hugged him, feeling relief wash over me. For the first time in a long while, I finally felt safe.
2. Hate Tore My Family Apart Until My Grandmother Brought Us Together One Last Time with a Great Revelation
Scott and I drove to Grandma Eleanor’s house for her 80th birthday. It was the first time in years that the whole family was gathering together. Everyone hated each other, but Grandma was different. She had always been the only one who showed real love.
Scott wasn’t too happy about it. “I don’t get why we’re here,” he grumbled as he parked the car.
“She’s our grandma,” I reminded him. “She’s the only person in this family who still cares about all of us.”
Scott sighed, looking frustrated. “We need the money more than ever, Camilla. I could be working right now.”
“It’s just one evening,” I said, patting my stomach. “Besides, Grandma deserves this.”
As we got out of the car, my brother Michael and his wife, Stacy, called out to us.
Stacy was struggling in heels, complaining, “I can’t run in these shoes!”
“Typical,” Scott muttered, rolling his eyes. Stacy only stuck around for Michael’s money.
We rang the doorbell, and Grandma opened it with her warm, loving smile. She hugged each of us tightly, then led us inside, where a feast was spread across the table.
“Grandma, why did you make so much food?” I asked, touched by the effort.
“Oh, I love doing this for you all,” she said, smiling.
As we sat down to eat, Michael asked, “Mom isn’t here yet?”
“She said she’s not sure she can make it,” Grandma replied sadly.
“Typical,” I muttered under my breath. “She’s always too busy for us.”
Michael shot me a look. “Stop it, Camilla. She’s our mother.”
I couldn’t hold back. “Yeah? And she hasn’t even wished me a happy birthday in years.”
Michael’s face hardened. “You think you’re perfect, don’t you? Mom had her career to focus on. She didn’t have time for us.”
“And she put her career before us every time! It’s the only thing she cared about!” I snapped.
Scott tried to calm me down. “Camilla, maybe just…”
I ignored him. “You only have those restaurants because Uncle gave them to you!”
Michael clenched his fists. “You’ve always been jealous of me, haven’t you?”
“Jealous of you? You’ve got a wife who only sticks around for your money!” I shouted back.
“Look at you!” Michael sneered. “Your husband can’t hold a job, and how long have you been trying for kids? Five? Ten years?”
“Go to hell!” I screamed.
Suddenly, Grandma stood up, her voice strong and commanding. “Enough! This is my birthday! I didn’t bring you all together just to fight!” Her eyes flashed as she continued, “And as for the inheritance…”
My heart skipped a beat. “Inheritance?” I asked, surprised.
Grandma’s voice was stern. “Your grandfather left something for all of you. But I’m not leaving a penny to either of you until you prove you deserve it. You need to earn my trust.”
“What do you mean?” Michael demanded.
“Show me you deserve it,” Grandma replied quietly, then she left the room.
I stepped outside for some air, still processing her words. Michael followed me. “So… we might get an inheritance?” he asked, glancing at me.
“Maybe if you hadn’t ruined everything as usual,” I muttered.
“What? Me?” He looked shocked. “You started it!”
We both walked back inside, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Grandma had said.
I found her in her room later. “Grandma, I’m sorry. We ruined tonight. Let me help you with anything.”
“Is this how you think you’ll win the inheritance?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you really need it, Camilla?”
I placed a hand on my stomach, hesitating before answering. “Because…”
Just then, Michael barged in. “Camilla’s lying about me, Grandma!”
“We weren’t even talking about you,” Grandma said, uninterested.
We returned to the dining room, and suddenly, our mother appeared, swooping in with open arms. “My darlings!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, Camilla,” she said, eyeing me critically. “Have you gained weight?”
I rolled my eyes and turned back toward the table. The bickering continued, each of us trying to prove we deserved Grandma’s inheritance more than the other. Then, suddenly, Grandma collapsed, clutching her chest. We heard a loud thud.
“Grandma!” I screamed, clutching my stomach. “Call an ambulance!”
Scott rushed to my side, gripping my hand. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s starting,” I gasped.
“Labor?” Scott whispered.
“Yes!” I shrieked.
Michael shouted, “You were pregnant?”
Our mother exclaimed, “I’m going to be a grandma?!”
I couldn’t believe it, but I told them to call 911.
In the hospital, I refused to give birth until I knew Grandma was okay. Scott begged me to focus on the baby, but I couldn’t. After an agonizing hour, our baby girl was born. When I woke up, Michael came in looking serious.
“Grandma… she’s gone,” he said softly.
The nurse handed me a note. “This was addressed to the family,” she said.
It was a note from Grandma. She’d known I was pregnant and left her entire inheritance to Scott and our baby. She had also urged Michael to divorce his wife and pleaded with our mom to be a better mother.
Michael looked at me, remorseful. “I’m sorry for what I said, Camilla.”
Our mom looked guilty. “Could I… be a real grandma?”
“Maybe,” I said, holding my newborn. “Her name is Eleanor.”
3. I Thought My Father Was Dead, Only to Find Out a Sinister Truth When We Tried Burying Him
The moment I stepped out of the car, the cold air hit me, and I felt the heavy weight of grief crash over me. I was standing in front of the church, about to say goodbye to my father, who had died from an infection. “We couldn’t even give him a proper funeral,” I thought sadly, but before I could think any further, a loud bark broke my thoughts.
It was Bella, my father’s dog. She was usually calm, always staying quietly in the car, but not today. I looked at her, and she was agitated, barking and scratching at the car window.
“Bella!” I called, walking over to the car. I made a hand gesture, signaling her to calm down, and thankfully, she lay down, though her eyes never left me.
“Stay, Bella,” I whispered, patting her head through the window, though I could hear her whining softly as I turned away.
With a deep sigh, I entered the church. The somber atmosphere hit me immediately. My father’s casket was at the front, roped off, surrounded by flowers and the scent of incense. I took my seat next to my mother, who was already wiping her eyes. I could feel a lump in my throat, knowing this would be the last time I would ever see him.
As the final hymn began to play, I heard Bella’s bark again, this time echoing loudly from outside. My heart skipped a beat, but I tried to ignore it. Suddenly, there was a loud thud from the back of the church, followed by a crash. I stood up in panic. Bella had somehow gotten out of the car. She had jumped onto the casket, knocking the flowers to the floor as she barked and scratched at the lid.
I didn’t think. I ran straight to the front. “Open the casket!” I screamed.
Murmurs spread through the crowd, but I didn’t care. I rushed forward and threw the lid open myself. And that’s when everything changed.
The casket was empty.
A wave of shock and confusion hit the room. People gasped, and I felt my heart race. I spun around and confronted the funeral director. “Where is he?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “Where is my father?”
The director’s face turned pale, and my mother collapsed into a faint right beside me. I caught her just in time, panic rising in me. I hurriedly carried her out of the church and to the hospital.
As we sat in the waiting room, I couldn’t stop thinking, “How could my father’s body be missing?” The thought looped in my mind like a broken record.
That night, I called the police, and Detective Bradshaw arrived to investigate. “The coroner confirmed your father’s death and released the body to the funeral home,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Do you think your father could’ve been in trouble, Mr. Hayes?”
I thought about it. My dad had always been a hardworking businessman, running his own dog training and rehabilitation center. I couldn’t imagine him getting involved in anything shady. Still, with no answers, the detective left, but I wasn’t about to stop.
I decided to go to the morgue myself. Leaving Bella at home, I drove there, desperate for answers. The nurse behind the desk was less than helpful. “The coroner resigned, and no replacement has been assigned,” she said, barely looking up.
I didn’t give up. I asked to see my father’s file, but she refused. That’s when I slid $1,000 onto the counter. Her eyes flicked to the money, then back to me. Without saying a word, she let me into the coroner’s office. But to my frustration, Dad’s file was gone.
I was getting nowhere.
I drove to my dad’s office, hoping to find something, anything. I opened his email, only to discover every single message had been deleted. Right at that moment, Dad’s lawyer, Mr. Stevens, walked in.
“Ryan,” he greeted me, his tone grim. “You’re the new CEO of the company.”
“What happened to all of Dad’s things here?” I asked, noticing two dancer figurines were missing from Dad’s desk.
Mr. Stevens sighed. “Your father supposedly took them home, though I don’t think he ever found the third one. The collector wants half a million dollars for it.”
I knew those figurines weren’t at home. I had gone through the house thoroughly while packing up my dad’s belongings. But that wasn’t the only shock Stevens had for me. He went on to tell me something even worse.
“Your father… we’re in severe debt. Investors have been pulling out since he started missing meetings months ago.”
The weight of his words hit me like a ton of bricks. My father, the steady and reliable businessman, was in trouble. But Stevens wasn’t finished.
“There’s something else,” he added. “I believe Arnold was having a relationship with his new secretary.”
My blood boiled. How could this be happening? But I couldn’t focus on that now. I needed answers.
I spent the next few days trying to placate investors and keep the business afloat. Then, I tracked down Dad’s secretary, Miss Pearson. I followed her to her house that evening, making sure no one saw me. When she drove off, I sneaked into her house and made my way to her bedroom.
There, on the nightstand, I found a photo of her kissing my father. And it got worse. On the coffee table, there was a manila envelope. I opened it, and inside was my father’s $7 million life insurance policy—with Miss Pearson listed as the sole beneficiary.
I drove straight to the police. “She’s leaving the country!” I told Detective Bradshaw, holding up the evidence. Hours later, they confirmed that Miss Pearson was booked on a flight to Morocco, a country with no extradition treaty.
Detective Bradshaw gathered her team and headed to the airport. They searched the crowd, but Miss Pearson had already slipped away. I refused to give up.
I tracked down the collector who owned the third dancer figurine, paying a jaw-dropping $750,000 for it. I arranged an auction, hoping that Dad would hear about it. At the auction house, I stood in the shadows, waiting.
The bidding was fierce, but then, at $1 million, I heard a familiar voice. I turned. It was my father.
I stepped forward, blocking his way as Detective Bradshaw handcuffed him.
“Ryan? You set me up!” Dad spat, his face contorted with anger.
“You faked your death,” I shouted, horrified. “You ran off with your mistress and left us to mourn over an empty casket!”
Dad’s face crumpled. He finally confessed. He had faked his own death to start a new life with Miss Pearson.
I stood there, cold fury building inside me. “You taught me that a man should do what’s right, not just follow his own selfish interests,” I said. “I hope you remember that.”
Detective Bradshaw assured me that Miss Pearson wouldn’t get far. As they took my father away, I felt a cold sense of finality. He had gotten away with too much for too long, but now, at least, he would face the consequences.
I had spent days searching for the truth. And finally, I had it.