«Mom, figure it out. It’s not my problem you’re sick,» my own daughter said before hanging up on me. I stared at my phone, holding $333 million in lottery winnings, and smiled. Ashley had just failed the most important test of her life, and she didn’t even know it.
You’re probably wondering how a 67-year-old grandmother from Ohio ended up with a fortune this size, testing her own children like some kind of twisted fairy tale. Well, let me take you back to where this all started: three weeks ago on a Tuesday morning that changed everything.
I’m Sandra Williams, and I’ve been buying the same lottery numbers for 15 years: my late husband’s birthday, our anniversary, and the day my grandson Jake was born. Call it sentiment, call it stupidity, but those numbers meant something to me. Frank, my neighbor, always joked that I was throwing away good coffee money.
«Sandra, the odds of winning are worse than getting struck by lightning while being eaten by a shark,» he’d say every week as I walked to Miller’s Corner Store. That Tuesday started like any other. I was having my morning coffee, watching the news, when they announced the Mega Millions numbers. I wasn’t really paying attention until I heard the first number.
14, then 23, then 31. My hand started shaking as I grabbed my ticket from where it was held by a magnet to the refrigerator. All six numbers matched perfectly. Three hundred and thirty-three million dollars. After taxes, it was still over $200 million—more money than I could spend in ten lifetimes.
My first instinct was to call my son, Derek. Then my daughter, Ashley. Then little Jake—well, not so little anymore at 20. I wanted to share this miracle with the people I loved most, but something held me back. Maybe it was the memory of last Christmas when Ashley made that comment about «finally getting some decent inheritance when the old lady kicks the bucket.»
Maybe it was Derek’s constant hints about me downsizing because the house was «too big for just one person.» Or maybe it was pure intuition. But I decided to wait. For three weeks, I kept the secret. I met with lawyers and financial advisors and set up trusts. I planned carefully.
And then I decided to conduct a little experiment. If my children truly loved me, they’d help me when I needed it most, right? Even if they thought I had nothing to give in return. The test was simple: I would call each of my children, tell them I needed help with money for my heart medication, and see what happened.
The medication story wasn’t entirely false. I do take heart pills, and they are expensive. But with my new fortune, money was no longer an issue. Love, however, was about to become one.
But that phone call with Ashley wasn’t even the worst part of my test; Derek’s response was somehow even more crushing than his sister’s. When I called him with the same story about needing help with medication costs, he didn’t even let me finish explaining.
«Mom, I can’t keep enabling this behavior,» he said, using that condescending tone he’d perfected since becoming a bank manager. «You need to learn to live within your means.»
«Enabling this behavior?» I almost laughed. The woman who’d raised him and his sister alone after their father died, who’d worked double shifts at the diner to pay for their college educations, was being lectured on money management by a man whose student loans I’d quietly paid off five years ago.
«Derek, I’m not asking for much. Just enough to cover my medication until my Social Security check arrives.» I kept my voice steady, though inside, I was already grieving for the son I thought I knew.
«Look, Mom, this is exactly what Ashley and I were talking about. You’re getting older, and maybe it’s time to consider some changes. Have you looked into those senior communities we mentioned? They handle all your medications, meals, everything.»
Ashley and I were talking about it. So, my children had been discussing my future behind my back. How thoughtful of them.
«Let me think about it,» I said, though I’d already heard enough. But Derek wasn’t finished delivering his lesson.
«And Mom, I’m going to have to block your number for a while. Ashley thinks we’re being too soft, and maybe she’s right. Sometimes, tough love is what people need to face reality.»
The line went dead. My own son had just blocked me rather than help with a prescription. I sat in my kitchen, the same one where I’d bandaged Derek’s scraped knees and helped him with homework, the same room where I’d celebrated Ashley’s good grades and comforted her through her divorce.
The lottery ticket was still on my refrigerator, worth more than this entire neighborhood, and my own children wanted to ship me off to a nursing home rather than help with medication. But Jake, my grandson, had always been different. He was Ashley’s son, but somehow he’d inherited none of her selfishness. He was the one who called just to check on me, who remembered my birthday without Facebook reminders, who still hugged me tight when he visited. Surely, he would pass this test.
I dialed his number with trembling fingers. He answered on the second ring, and I could hear road noise in the background.
«Grandma Sandra, what’s up?» His voice was warm, genuinely happy to hear from me.
«Jake, honey, I hate to bother you, but I’m in a bit of a pickle.» I explained the same story about needing help with medication costs. There was a pause, and my heart started to sink.
Then he said the words that changed everything. «How much do you need? I’ve got about $500 in savings, and I can drive down this weekend. Are you okay? Do you need me to take you to the doctor?»
$500. It was probably every penny he had saved from his part-time job at the campus bookstore. He was offering me his entire emergency fund without hesitation, and he wanted to drive 400 miles just to check on me.
«Oh, sweetie, I couldn’t take your money,» I said, tears streaming down my face.
«Grandma, you’ve never asked me for anything, ever. If you need help, I’m coming. No arguments.»
After I hung up, I knew what I had to do. Jake had passed the test with flying colors. But his mother and uncle? They were about to learn a very expensive lesson about family loyalty.
That weekend, I bought Jake a new car. You should have seen the look on Ashley’s face when she pulled into my driveway Sunday afternoon and saw the brand-new silver Honda Civic parked next to my old Toyota. Jake was washing it in the driveway, grinning from ear to ear.
«Whose car is that?» Ashley asked, getting out of her Mercedes that I knew for a fact she was behind on payments for.
«Mine!» Jake called out, dropping the sponge to come give me a hug. «Mom, Grandma bought it for me. Can you believe it?»
I watched Ashley’s face cycle through confusion, suspicion, and finally anger. Her perfectly styled blonde hair didn’t move in the wind. Hairspray will do that.
«Mom, can we talk?» Ashley’s voice was tight. «Inside. Now.»
Derek pulled up just as we were heading in, and I could see him taking in the scene. His face went through the same emotional journey as his sister’s. We gathered in my living room, the same room where Derek and Ashley had played with their toys 30 years ago.
Ashley perched on the edge of my sofa as if she were afraid it might contaminate her designer dress.
«Where did you get the money for a car?» Derek demanded, having let himself in without knocking. «Last week you were calling us begging for help with prescriptions.»
«Was I begging?» I tilted my head, genuinely curious about his word choice. «I thought I was asking my children for assistance. Silly me.»
«Don’t play games, Mom,» Ashley snapped. «How much did that car cost? Twenty thousand? Twenty-five? Where did that money come from?»
I settled into my favorite armchair, the one their father had bought me for our 20th anniversary. «Well, I decided not to buy my heart medication this month. Apparently, cars for loving grandsons are more important than keeping this old ticker beating.»
Ashley gasped. «Mom, that’s crazy. You can’t stop taking your medication.»
«Oh, now you’re concerned about my health? How thoughtful.» I kept my voice sweet, but I could see Derek catching on to my sarcasm.
«This is insane,» Derek muttered, running his hands through his thinning hair. «Jake, get in here.»
My grandson appeared in the doorway, still beaming. At 20, he had his mother’s dark eyes, but thankfully, not her selfish heart.
«Jake, you can’t accept this car,» Derek said firmly. «Your grandmother clearly isn’t thinking straight. She stopped taking her medication to buy you a car. That’s not love; that’s mental illness.»
«Uncle Derek, what are you talking about?» Jake looked genuinely confused. «Grandma’s fine. We had a great talk yesterday about college, my job, everything. She’s sharper than all of us.»
«Son, your grandmother called us last week begging for money,» Ashley chimed in. «Now suddenly she has $25,000 for a car? Something doesn’t add up.»
