Anna hurried up the stairs of the notary’s office, nearly half an hour late. The city traffic had been brutal, and the bus had broken down halfway there. Her heart was racing—not only from climbing so fast, but from anxiety, too. Today was the day her grandmother’s inheritance would finally be decided.
In the waiting area, her mother, Valentina Petrovna, and her brother, Mikhail, were already there. Her mother looked as if she’d come to a celebration—dressed in a brand-new suit, wearing a pleased, almost triumphant smile. Mikhail appeared calm and confident, flipping through a stack of papers.
“At last!” her mother cried when she saw her. “We’ve been waiting for you for thirty minutes!”
“I’m sorry,” Anna said, out of breath. “The bus broke down.”
“With you, it’s always some kind of problem,” Valentina Petrovna muttered, shaking her head. “At least your being late doesn’t ruin anything.”
Anna sat down on the empty chair and glanced around. The office looked serious and expensive—oak furniture, leather armchairs, and framed diplomas and certificates lining the walls. Behind a large desk sat the notary, a man around fifty with watchful, attentive eyes.
“Alright,” he began once everyone was settled, “we’re here to read the will of Maria Ivanovna Sergeyeva. Before we start, I need to confirm: are all heirs present?”
“Yes,” Valentina Petrovna nodded. “I’m the deceased’s daughter, and Mikhail and Anna are her grandchildren.”
The notary opened a folder of documents.
“Good. But I must warn you—this case is a little unusual. There are two wills.”
“Two?” Mikhail frowned in surprise.
“One will is dated last year,” the notary explained. “The second was signed only a month ago.”
Valentina Petrovna’s brow tightened.
“A month ago? But Mother was already sick—she was in the hospital…”
“Even so,” the notary said evenly, “the will was executed in full compliance with the law, in the presence of witnesses. Under the rules, the most recent document is the valid one.”
Anna felt her chest tighten. She had always been close to her grandmother, but in the last months her mother had strictly forbidden her from visiting, insisting the old woman needed peace and quiet.
“And what does this will say?” Valentina Petrovna asked, her voice edged with nerves.
The notary put on his glasses and unfolded the pages.
“According to last year’s will,” he read, “all property—the apartment, the summer cottage, and the funds—was to be divided equally between the daughter, Valentina Petrovna, and the grandchildren, Mikhail and Anna.”
“There we go,” her mother said with relief. “Fair and equal.”
“However,” the notary continued, “the later will contains major changes.”
Mikhail leaned forward. “What changes?”
“Under the new will,” the notary said, “the apartment and the entire amount of money are to pass fully to the granddaughter, Anna Sergeyevna.”
A heavy silence dropped over the room. Anna couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
“How is that possible?” Valentina Petrovna jumped to her feet. “That can’t be true!”
“I’m afraid it can,” the notary replied. “The will was signed in the presence of two witnesses, and a medical report confirms the testator was of sound mind at the time.”
“But why?” Mikhail asked, completely thrown. “Why would Grandma change it?”
The notary paged through the file.
“There is an explanatory note here, written in Maria Ivanovna’s own hand. I can read it aloud if you’d like.”
“Please do,” Anna said firmly.
He nodded and began.
“‘All my life I tried to be fair to my children and grandchildren. But in my final months I understood who truly loved me. Valentina and Mikhail visited only when they needed something. My dear Annushka came simply to talk, to bring me little treats, to help around the house. When I got sick, only she wanted to care for me—but Valentina wouldn’t allow her in. That is why I leave everything to the most attentive and loving granddaughter.’”
Valentina Petrovna went pale.
“That’s not true!” she snapped. “I told Anna not to come because Mother was very ill!”
“And how often did you visit your mother in the hospital?” the notary asked.
“I… I worked a lot,” she stammered. “It didn’t always work out…”
“And you, Mikhail Sergeyevich?”
Mikhail said nothing, staring at the floor.
Anna felt uncomfortable. She truly loved her grandmother, but she had never been thinking about inheritance.
“Wait,” she said. “Could the will be fake? What if someone took advantage of the fact that Grandma was sick?”
The notary shook his head.
“Impossible. The will was prepared in my presence. Maria Ivanovna was fully conscious, answered every question, and personally dictated the explanatory note.”
“But I’m her daughter!” Valentina Petrovna protested. “A mother can’t leave her daughter with nothing!”
“Legally, she can,” the notary replied. “A will is the deceased’s expressed decision.”
Mikhail suddenly stood.
“Anna… maybe we can settle this ourselves,” he said quickly. “Split it the way it was in the first will—fairly.”
“Mikhail’s right,” their mother chimed in. “You can’t take everything! We’re family!”
Anna froze. On one hand, she understood they had counted on the inheritance. On the other, it was her grandmother’s choice.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I need time to think.”
“What is there to think about?” Valentina Petrovna sprang up again. “We already gave your share to your brother—you don’t need it!”
“What do you mean, you gave it away?” Anna stared.
“Exactly what I said! Mikhail needs it more—he has a family and children. You live alone. You don’t need much!”
“Mom, but the will leaves it to Anna,” the notary intervened. “No one has the right to pressure her into refusing.”
“I’m not pressuring her,” Valentina Petrovna shot back. “I’m explaining what’s fair!”
Anna looked at her mother and brother. In their eyes she saw greed and calculation. And she remembered how her mother had truly kept her from seeing her grandmother, claiming Anna’s visits only upset the old woman.
“No,” Anna said softly. “I’m not giving it up.”
“What do you mean, you’re not?” her mother demanded.
“It was Grandma’s decision,” Anna said, voice steadier now. “And she knew exactly what she was doing.”
“Anna, please,” Mikhail begged. “I’ve got a mortgage loan, the kids need daycare…”
“And I have a mortgage too,” Anna answered. “And a small salary. I’m not living in luxury either.”
“But you’re alone! It’s easier for you!”
“Why is it easier?” Anna snapped. “Because I don’t have a family?”
Valentina Petrovna stood over her, glaring.
“If you don’t share, I won’t speak to you again,” she said. “Ever.”
“Mom, that’s blackmail.”
“No—this is justice! A daughter has a right to inherit from her mother!”
“You do have a right,” Anna said, quieter again. “But Grandma chose differently.”
The notary waited patiently as the family argued.
“Alright,” he said at last. “Anna Sergeyevna, do you accept the inheritance?”
“I do,” Anna answered firmly.
“Then we’ll proceed with the paperwork,” the notary said. “But first, I must read one more part of the will.”
“There’s more?” Mikhail asked, startled.
“Yes,” the notary replied. “Maria Ivanovna anticipated the possibility of a family conflict over money.”
He turned the page.
“‘If my family quarrels because of money, I ask that the following be done. I leave Valentina my jewelry and photo albums. I leave Mikhail Grandfather’s watch and books. And I also leave each of them one hundred thousand rubles from my savings. Let that be enough for them to understand that I loved them too—but justice matters more.’”
Valentina Petrovna and Mikhail exchanged glances.
“So we do get something?” her mother asked cautiously.
“You do,” the notary said. “Maria Ivanovna didn’t leave anyone with absolutely nothing.”
“One hundred thousand…” Mikhail murmured. “At least it’s something.”
“And Mother’s jewelry is worth a lot,” Valentina Petrovna added quickly. “There’s a diamond ring in there.”
Anna listened and realized her grandmother had truly planned everything. She had known her family—and had prepared for their reaction.
“And the cottage?” Anna asked.
“The cottage goes to you,” the notary replied. “But the will includes a request that you allow relatives to rest there sometimes.”
“Of course,” Anna nodded. “It’s big enough for everyone.”
Mikhail suddenly smiled, a little awkwardly.
“You know, Anya… maybe Grandma was right. You really did care for her more than anyone.”
“Mikhail!” their mother scolded.
“Mom, come on,” he said. “It’s true. We didn’t visit Grandma much. Anya was there every weekend.”
Valentina Petrovna fell silent, then let out a long breath.
“Maybe,” she admitted. “Still… it hurts.”
“Mom,” Anna said gently, “I’m not greedy. If you ever truly need something, I’ll help. We are family.”
“Are you going to sell the apartment?” Mikhail asked.
“I’m not sure,” Anna replied. “I might move in. It’s bigger than mine, and the neighborhood is good.”
“And your current place?”
“I’ll sell it and pay off my mortgage.”
The notary began preparing the documents. The process took more than an hour—signatures, stamps, fees, and endless pages.
“Congratulations,” he said at the end. “Your documents will be ready in a week.”
As they left the office, none of them spoke at first. Outside, Valentina Petrovna stopped and turned to her daughter.
“Anya… I’m upset, of course,” she said. “But you’re right—this was Mother’s will.”
“I understand you expected more,” Anna answered softly.
“We did,” her mother said with a sad smile. “And maybe we all should have spent more time with Grandma while she was alive.”
“She loved you,” Anna said. “She just wanted us to understand what matters.”
Mikhail hugged his sister.
“I won’t hold it against you,” he said. “Grandma was smart. She knew what she was doing.”
“Thank you, Mish.”
“And we can really use the cottage sometimes?”
“Of course,” Anna nodded. “Come in the summer with the kids—like before.”
They reached the bus stop and waited.
“You know,” Valentina Petrovna said suddenly, “I remember something. In the hospital, Mom kept saying, ‘Only my Annushka understands me.’ I thought it was just the illness talking.”
“It wasn’t the illness,” Anna replied. “She simply felt who truly needed her—who truly cared.”
When the bus arrived, Anna sat by the window and thought about her grandmother. Even after death, the old woman had managed to teach the family a lesson: love and attention can’t be replaced by money, and fairness doesn’t always look the way people expect.
That evening, Anna went to her grandmother’s apartment. She unlocked the door with a key she’d had even while her grandmother was alive. The hallway smelled faintly of her grandmother’s perfume and old books. On the table lay a note in familiar handwriting:
“Annushka, if you’re reading this, it means everything went the way it needed to. Don’t be sad that the family argued. They will understand and forgive. And you—live here and be happy. I love you. Grandma Masha.”
Anna pressed the note to her chest and cried. But these weren’t tears of grief. They were tears of gratitude—for a wise old woman who, even after she was gone, still found a way to take care of her.