Katie quietly cared for a lonely elderly woman. But the entire village gasped when the will was revealed
It all began with an official envelope of thick paper, handed to Katie by the postwoman with unusual solemnity. Inside, on embossed stationery, the solicitor, Edward Whitmore, informed her in dry legal terms that she must attend the reading of the last will and testament of the late Mrs. Winifred Fairchild.
Katie read the letter several times. A will? Winifred had never mentioned it. The formal summons frightened her, feeling out of place in the quiet grief still lingering in her heart.
And now she sat in a cramped, stuffy office that smelled of dusty files and sharp, foreign perfumes. She perched on the edge of her chair, shrinking into it as if trying to disappear. The only outsider in the room.
“Well, when is he going to start?” whispered a stout woman in a garish suit, flashing gold rings.
It was Lydia Harrington, a distant cousin whom Katie had seen only three times in ten yearsand always at Winifreds doorstep with some brazen request. She cast Katie a contemptuous glance, curling her lip slightly.
“What are you doing here, dear? You cant help Winifred now.”
Katie flinched and said nothing, only tightening her grip on her worn handbag. The solicitor, a stern bespectacled man, cleared his throat for attention.
“Very well, ladies and gentlemen, let us begin.”
Lydia adjusted her hair with exaggerated importance.
“Why bother with formalities, Mr. Whitmore? Just the old cottage and some carpets. Were all family here.”
The solicitor fixed her with a sharp look over his glasses and began reading in a flat, measured tone. Katie listened absently, recalling the last days with Winifredtheir quiet evenings, their talks about books, her frail, warm hand in hers. Winifred often spoke of her late husband: “My Leonard was a genius, Katie, though unrecognised. He saw everything in numbers, in charts. He used to say money isnt paperits energy. You just have to know where to direct it” Katie had only nodded sympathetically then, not grasping the meaning.
“the total assets in the brokerage account under the deceaseds name amount to thirty-eight thousand pounds,” the solicitor announced without inflection.
A ringing silence fell. Even the rustle of papers in Mr. Whitmores hands sounded thunderous.
Lydia slowly turned her head toward him, her face stripped of its smugness.
“How much?”
“Thirty-eight thousand,” he repeated, not looking up. “The will was signed and witnessed a year ago. In full possession of her faculties.”
The relatives erupted like a stirred hornets nest. They exchanged glances, faces twisting with greed and suspicionand all their stares, as if on cue, locked onto Katie.
She sat pale as a sheet, understanding nothing. Thirty-eight thousand? So that was what Winifred had meant by “energy”
The solicitor coughed and continued.
“I, Winifred Fairchild, bequeath all my movable and immovable property, including all monetary assets in my accounts, to Katherine Eleanor Thorne”
“What?!” Lydia shrieked.
Edward Whitmore looked up, his gaze cold as steel.
“in gratitude for ten years of selfless care, human warmth, and support, which she gave me while my blood relatives forgot me for years.”
He finished reading.
Katie lifted her head to meet Lydias wolfish glare.
“So thats why you clung to her, you snake,” Lydia hissed, her voice thick with fury. “You tricked the old woman! Fraud!”
Katie froze. It wasnt the moneydropped on her like snow from a clear skythat stunned her. It was the explosion of her quiet little world, where she had simply helped a lonely soul. The shards were flying straight at her.
Katie slipped from the office like a shadow. She needed air. But the relatives spilled out after her, surrounding her on the narrow pavement.
“Hold on, Thorne,” Lydia seized her elbow in a vice-like grip. “Did you think youd walk away so easily?”
“II didnt know anything,” Katie whispered, trying to pull free.
“Didnt know, did she?” scoffed some distant nephew. “Ten years emptying bedpans and claims she didnt know! Saintly fool!”
“Listen, I dont want the money,” she said softly. “I never asked”
“Oh, she doesnt want it!” Lydia sneered. “Understand this, girlwell settle this nicely. That money is ours by blood. Youre nothing. Well take you to court. Prove you deceived her, wormed your way in. That she wasnt in her right mind. Youll have trouble, Katie. Big trouble.”
Katie silently freed her arm and walked away. Their shouts and threats chased her.
The following days became hell. The phone wouldnt stop.
“Katie, love, lets be reasonable,” Lydias husband murmured through the receiver. “Why drag this through the courts? Give us half, and well leave you be. Honest.”
An hour later, Lydia herself called.
“Youve stolen my childrens future!” she screeched. “Ill ruin you! Everyone will know what a viper you are!”
And she told them. In the shop where Katie bought bread, Lydia announced to the whole queue how “this swindler robbed our poor, senile aunt.” People began to whisper, to glare. Mrs. Wilkins from next door, who had asked for a casserole recipe just a week ago, now crossed the street to avoid her.
Every glance, every murmur struck like a hammer. Her good name, the only thing shed ever had, was dragged through the mud.
One evening, a knock came at the door. Lydia stood on the step, her face a mask of false sympathy.
“May I?” She stepped inside without waiting. “This is hard for you, Katie. I see that. But understandIm fighting for my family. We need that money more. A flat for my son, education for the grandchildren. Its only fair, isnt it?”
“Winifred wrote the will,” Katie replied quietly but firmly. “It was her decision.”
Lydias smile twisted. The mask slipped.
“The decision of a mad old woman! Think a judge will believe you? Well hire the best lawyers, Katie. Theyll skin you alive, and youll end up with nothing. Think hard. Renounce the will. Voluntarily.”
After Lydia left, Katie sat motionless for a long time. She nearly broke. Maybe she should give in. Return to her quiet life. The thought brought fleeting reliefthen bitterness. To refuse would betray Winifred. Admit her last wish had been a mistake.
Katie barely slept that night. By morning, unable to bear the suffocating tension, she went to Winifreds house.
Even at the gate, she sensed something wrong. The door was ajar. She pushed it open and froze.
Inside was chaos. The house had been ransacked. Dust hung in the air, thick with the scent of bitter disappointment. Books sprawled on the floor, pages torn. An old photo album lay in shreds. They had been searchingand in their greed, destroyed everything precious.
Katie stepped inside slowly. A broken porcelain angelher modest gift to Winifred years agolay on the floor. She picked up a shard, its sharp edge scratching her finger. A drop of blood bloomed on the white glaze. And suddenly, fear and doubt vanished, replaced by cold, hard anger. They had crossed a line. They had trampled not her, but Winifreds memory. Enough.
Her gaze fell on a heavy volume of Shakespearethe only book untouched. She opened it. Between the pages of *King Lear* lay a hollowed space. Inside, a flash drive and a neatly folded note.
*”Dear Katie, if youre reading this, my vultures have shown their true colours. Dont fear them. Their strength is brazennessyours is truth. My Leonard taught me not just to invest money, but to calculate risks. I knew they wouldnt leave you in peace.
On this drive are recordings of their visits over the years. Everything is there. And something morea surprise for them. Dont surrender what is rightfully yours. Fight.”*
Katie clenched the flash drive. It was her weapon.
She dialled Lydias number.
“Lydia, its Katie,” she said calmly, her voice steady in a way she barely recognised. “Ive considered your offer.”
“Finally! And what have you decided, little orphan?”
“Ive decided youve made a terrible mistake,” Katie said evenly. “You broke into a house that wasnt yours. Now Im filing a police report for trespass and vandalism. My solicitor will contact yours. Ive acquired some very interesting evidence. Expect a summons.”
Silence. Then
“Youyou wretched little!”
Katie ended the call. The game had begun. Now, it would be played by her rules.
