At my grandmother’s funeral, I saw my mother surreptitiously slip a small package into the casket. Curious, I later retrieved it. Inside were dozens of letters—each written by Grandma to my mother, Victoria—revealing a heartbreaking betrayal. The first letter, dated three years ago, accused my mother of stealing from Grandma to feed her gambling addiction. Each letter grew more painful, filled with sorrow and anger, as Grandma confronted my mother’s lies and manipulation. The final letter, written just days before her death, disinherited Victoria, leaving everything to me.

The truth hit me like a ton of bricks. My mother had been using me, just like she had used Grandma. I realized the warm, concerned gestures from her throughout the years had masked her deeper intentions: to control and manipulate us both for her benefit.

I confronted my mother the next day, handing her the letters. Her face drained of color as she read my letter: “If you ever try to take what Grandma left me, everyone will know the truth.”

Her deception had finally been exposed. I walked away, knowing I could never trust her again.