The nurse examined Lucy’s twins before discharge, but Lucy was shocked when she returned them. The nurse had brought two baby girls after the examination, and Lucy had given birth to one boy and one girl.
Lucy and her husband Ross had been trying to conceive for a long time, and when they discovered they were expecting twins, they were over the moon.
The ultrasound had revealed they would be having a boy and a girl, and the couple was eagerly awaiting the arrival of the twins. However, when the nurse brought the children post-examination, they were both girls. Lucy’s face turned pale.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Where has my son gone? What exactly did you do to him? And whose baby is this other girl?” she screamed, gazing at the nurse who had just brought the kids in.
“They are your daughters, ma’am,” the nurse, Savannah, said, her eyes fixated on the documents. “I double-checked the reports and I’m confident there is no error.”
“Have you lost your senses?” Lucy snapped. “I have all the reports with me as proof that I was supposed to deliver a boy and a girl. And I was informed about the same after delivery. There’s no way they’re both girls!”
Lucy noticed the fear in the nurse’s eyes when she looked up from her reports. She was about to say something to her when Dr. Linda Carter walked in. “Would you please keep quiet, ma’am? This is a hospital, and there are other patients,” she explained to Lucy.
“Quiet? Seriously?” Lucy glared at her. “Your nurse brings me a random child, then tells me she’s not wrong! Is that how your hospital administration operates? Should I contact the chief doctor and inform him of the situation?”
“I agree with my wife, doctor. We don’t want to create a scene either,” Ross intervened. “But your nurse is lying. We don’t know why she’s doing that, but if we don’t get our son back, we’ll have to call the police!”
“Please, sir, calm down,” Dr. Carter said. “I’m sure there’s just some misunderstanding. Savannah has been working at this hospital for several years. Perhaps she brought the wrong documents. Savannah, may I have a look at the papers?” Dr. Carter inquired. But Savannah didn’t give it to her and instead started stammering, “There’s no need, ma’am…I mean, I checked it, and they’re fine.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Dr. Carter sensed something was wrong and softly told her, “It’s fine. Let me quickly check the reports.” However, when she read through them, she realized Lucy was correct.
“Please give me a minute, ma’am,” she said as she flipped through the pages. “I assume Savannah brought the incorrect paperwork. There was another patient named Lucy Matthews, and Savannah got confused.”
“I’m glad you noticed your mistake,” Lucy said, glaring at her. “I would recommend that you hire responsible people as members of the staff the next time!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Dr. Carter apologized again as she turned to face Savannah. “Would you mind accompanying me, Savannah? I need you to find the correct reports for me.”
Savannah swiftly followed Dr. Carter, but Lucy spotted the tears in her eyes as she walked away. She got a strange feeling Dr. Carter and Savannah were up to something, so she decided to follow them.
She watched them both enter Dr. Carter’s clinic and then heard someone crying. It had to be Savannah, she reasoned. Fortunately, the door was slightly ajar, so Lucy sat on one of the chairs just outside the room and listened to what they were saying.
“What were you thinking, Savannah?” Dr. Carter spoke in a firm tone. “Lucy Matthews delivered twins: a boy and a girl at 10:30 a.m. today. Even the reports said that. Why are you lying to them? Be honest!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t have a choice, ma’am,” Savannah sobbed. “That other newborn girl belongs to my sister. Her spouse had abandoned her after he learned about the pregnancy, and unfortunately, she didn’t make it post-delivery. I could have adopted her, but my husband refused.”
“Why don’t you place her in a nursing home?” Dr. Carter proposed. “She’d be well taken care of there.”
“I’m afraid I can’t, ma’am. It was my sister’s last wish for her daughter to grow up in a loving home,” Savannah sobbed.
“When I saw Mrs. Matthews this morning and how she and her husband were supporting each other, I thought they would be a beautiful family for her. So I decided to swap Mrs. Matthew’s son with my sister’s daughter and place him in a nursing home instead.”
“But that’s not right, Savannah,” Dr. Carter pointed out. “We can’t let that happen. Get Mrs. Matthews’ son right now. And, yes, this should stay confidential between us. Let me see what I can do for you.”
Lucy’s eyes had welled up when she heard the story. There wasn’t a nefarious intention behind exchanging the kids. A helpless woman wanted her niece to end up in a lovely family. I feel sorry for the child, honestly. Lucy pondered as she returned to her room.
A few minutes later, Dr. Carter returned to Lucy’s room and handed over her newborn son. “Sorry about the mixup, ma’am. I apologize on behalf of my staff,” Dr. Carter said.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Having overheard the whole story earlier, Lucy, decided not to file a complaint against her. But every time she tried to sleep at home that night, her thoughts returned to the poor child, and her innocent face flashed straight in front of her eyes.
“I can’t forget about her, Ross,” Lucy told her husband at breakfast the next day. “I had a dream yesterday in which I saw a girl who had come to our house by mistake and was living peacefully with us. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can’t get that out of my head.”
“It’s because of what happened yesterday, honey,” Ross explained. “Try to distract yourself with something else. How about we go somewhere? You’ll feel better.”
“No, Ross,” Lucy looked at him. “I don’t feel like leaving that child alone. I want to adopt her.”
“But honey!” Ross cried. “Are you sure? We already have two children to look after, and a third would be far too much! Don’t make emotional decisions! We need to be practical.”
“I understand, Ross, but please. I can’t persuade myself. I pondered it all night and decided to adopt her. Can we please go to the hospital today?”
“Well, honey. I am there with you in all your decisions, but I’m worried it’ll be too much work for you.”
“I can manage that, Ross. Please?” Lucy insisted.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Ross initially opposed the adoption, but his feelings changed when he held the child in his arms. She had brown eyes with a slight green tinge, and she kept staring at him. Ross was moved by her innocent looks, to say the least.
“I’m delighted you considered adopting her, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. She is indeed lucky,” the doctor told them.
“Well, doctor, we tried a lot for kids, and now, when a child wants to come to us, we can’t just let it go. Just let me know when we can take her home,” Lucy said.
“It’ll take some time, but for now, I’ll submit the documents to expedite the process.”
As the doctor had said, it took some time, but Lucy and Ross had no regrets about their decision. When they brought the child home, they felt as if their family was finally complete. They named the baby girl Amelia.
Savannah visited them after learning Lucy and Ross had adopted the child and couldn’t stop thanking them. Since then, she’s become a regular at the Matthews’, and she mostly spends the weekends with Lucy’s kids: the twins Sia and Mark and Amelia.
What can we learn from this story?
- Relationships are formed through love and care, not necessarily by blood. Lucy and Ross’s adoption of Amelia as their kid is a beautiful example of this.
- Some accidents are beautiful. Savannah brought Amelia to Lucy simply because she wanted her to be adopted by a good family, and in the end, the poor child was blessed with a lovely family.
At My Grandma’s Funeral, I Saw My Mom Hiding a Package in the Coffin — I Quietly Took It & Was Stunned When I Looked Inside
At my grandmother’s funeral, I saw my mother discreetly slip a mysterious package into the coffin. When I took it later out of curiosity, I didn’t expect it would unravel heartbreaking secrets that would haunt me forever.
They say grief comes in waves, but for me, it strikes like missing stairs in the dark. My grandmother Catherine wasn’t just family; she was my best friend, my universe. She made me feel like the most precious thing in the world, enveloping me in hugs that felt like coming home. Standing beside her coffin last week, I felt untethered, like learning to breathe with only half a lung.
An older woman in a coffin | Source: Midjourney
The funeral home’s soft lighting cast gentle shadows across Grandma’s peaceful face. Her silver hair was arranged just the way she always wore it, and someone had put her favorite pearl necklace around her neck.
My fingers traced the smooth wood of the casket as memories flooded back. Just last month, we’d been sitting in her kitchen, sharing tea and laughter while she taught me her secret sugar cookie recipe
“Emerald, honey, she’s watching over you now, you know,” Mrs. Anderson, our next-door neighbor, placed a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed behind her glasses. “Your grandmother never stopped talking about her precious grandchild.”
A grieving young woman | Source: Midjourney
I wiped away a stray tear. “Remember how she used to make those incredible apple pies? The whole neighborhood would know it was Sunday just from the smell.”
“Oh, those pies! She’d send you over with slices for us, proud as could be. ‘Emerald helped with this one,’ she’d always say. ‘She has the perfect touch with the cinnamon.’”
“I tried making one last week,” I admitted, my voice catching. “It wasn’t the same. I picked up the phone to ask her what I’d done wrong, and then… the heart attack… the ambulance arrived and—”
“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Anderson pulled me into a tight hug. “She knew how much you loved her. That’s what matters. And look at all these people here… she touched so many lives.”
An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney
The funeral home was indeed crowded, filled with friends and neighbors sharing stories in hushed voices. I spotted my mother, Victoria, standing off to the side, checking her phone. She hadn’t shed a tear all day.
As Mrs. Anderson and I were talking, I saw my mother approach the casket. She glanced around furtively before leaning over it, her manicured hand slipping something inside. It looked like a small package.
When she straightened, her eyes darted around the room before she walked away, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.
A mature woman at a funeral | Source: Midjourney
“Did you see that?” I whispered, my heart suddenly racing.
“See what, dear?”
“My mom just…” I hesitated, watching my mother disappear into the ladies’ room. “Nothing. Just the grief playing tricks, I guess.”
But the unease settled in my stomach like a cold stone. Mom and Grandma had barely spoken in years. And there was no way my grandma would have asked for something to be put in her casket without my knowledge.
Something felt off.
A grieving woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney
Evening shadows lengthened across the funeral home’s windows as the last mourners filtered out. The scent of lilies and roses hung heavy in the air, mixing with the lingering perfume of departed guests.
My mother had left an hour ago, claiming a migraine, but her earlier behavior kept nagging at me like a splinter under my skin.
“Ms. Emerald?” The funeral director, Mr. Peters, appeared at my elbow. His kind face reminded me of my grandfather, who we’d lost five years ago. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be in my office whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you. Mr. Peters.”
An older man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
I waited until his footsteps faded before approaching Grandma’s casket again. The room felt different now. Heavier, filled with unspoken words and hidden truths.
In the quiet space, my heartbeat seemed impossibly loud. I leaned closer, examining every detail of Grandma’s peaceful face.
There, barely visible beneath the fold of her favorite blue dress — the one she’d worn to my college graduation — was the corner of something wrapped in blue cloth.
I wrestled with guilt, torn between loyalty to my mom and the need to honor Grandma’s wishes. But my duty to protect Grandma’s legacy outweighed it.
My hands trembled as I carefully reached in, extracted the package, and slipped it into my purse.
A woman holding a brown leather purse | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” I whispered, touching her cold hand one last time. Her wedding ring caught the light, a final sparkle of the warmth she’d always carried.
“But something’s not right here. You taught me to trust my instincts, remember? You always said the truth matters more than comfort.”
Back home, I sat in Grandma’s old reading chair, the one she’d insisted I take when she moved to the smaller apartment last year. The package sat in my lap, wrapped in a familiar blue handkerchief.
I recognized the delicate “C” embroidered in the corner. I’d watched Grandma stitch it decades ago while she told me stories about her childhood.
A woman holding a small blue package | Source: Midjourney
“What secrets are you keeping, Mom?” I murmured, carefully untying the worn twine. My stomach churned at the sight that followed.
Inside were letters, dozens of them, each bearing my mother’s name in Grandma’s distinctive handwriting. The paper was yellowed at the edges, some creased from frequent handling.
A stunned woman holding a stack of old letters | Source: Midjourney
The first letter was dated three years ago. The paper was crisp, as if it had been read many times:
“Victoria,
I know what you did.
Did you think I wouldn’t notice the missing money? That I wouldn’t check my accounts? Month after month, I watched small amounts disappear. At first, I told myself there must be some mistake. That my own daughter wouldn’t steal from me. But we both know the truth, don’t we?
Your gambling has to stop. You’re destroying yourself and this family. I’ve tried to help you, to understand, but you keep lying to my face while taking more. Remember last Christmas when you swore you’d changed? When you cried and promised to get help? A week later, another $5,000 was gone.
I’m not writing this to shame you. I’m writing because it breaks my heart to watch you spiral like this.
Please, Victoria. Let me help you… really help you this time.
Mom”
A shocked woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
My hands shook as I read letter after letter. Each one revealed more of the story I’d never known, painting a picture of betrayal that made my stomach turn.
The dates spread across years, the tone shifting from concern to anger to resignation.
One letter mentioned a family dinner where Mom had sworn she was done gambling.
I remembered that night — she’d seemed so sincere, tears streaming down her face as she hugged Grandma. Now I wondered if those tears had been real or just another performance.
A startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Midjourney
The final letter from Grandma made me catch my breath:
“Victoria,
You’ve made your choices. I’ve made mine. Everything I own will go to Emerald — the only person who’s shown me real love, not just used me as a personal bank. You may think you’ve gotten away with it all, but I promise you haven’t. The truth always comes to light.
Remember when Emerald was little, and you accused me of playing favorites? You said I loved her more than I loved you. The truth is, I loved you both differently but equally. The difference was that she loved me back without conditions, without wanting anything in return.
I still love you. I’ll always love you. But I cannot trust you.
Mom”
A surprised woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
My hands were shaking as I unfolded the last letter. This one was from my mother to Grandma, dated just two days ago, after Grandma’s death. The handwriting was sharp, angry strokes across the page:
“Mom,
Fine. You win. I admit it. I took the money. I needed it. You never understood what it’s like to feel that rush, that need. But guess what? Your clever little plan won’t work. Emerald adores me. She’ll give me whatever I ask for. Including her inheritance. Because she loves me. So in the end, I still win.
Maybe now you can stop trying to control everyone from beyond the grave. Goodbye.
Victoria”
A teary-eyed woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
Sleep eluded me that night. I paced my apartment, memories shifting and realigning with this new reality.
The Christmas gifts that always seemed too expensive. The times Mom had asked to “borrow” my credit card for emergencies. All those casual conversations about Grandma’s finances, disguised as daughter’s concern.
“Have you talked to Mom about getting power of attorney?” she’d asked one day. “You know how forgetful she’s getting.”
“She seems fine to me,” I’d replied.
“Just thinking ahead, sweetie. We need to protect her assets.”
My mother, driven solely by greed, had betrayed my grandmother and now, me.
A teary-eyed woman standing near the window | Source: Midjourney
By morning, my eyes were burning but my mind was clear. I called her, keeping my voice steady:
“Mom? Can we meet for coffee? There’s something important I need to give you.”
“What is it, sweetie?” Her voice dripped with honey-sweet concern. “Are you okay? You sound tired.”
“I’m fine. It’s about Grandma. She left a package for you. Said I should give it to you ‘when the time was right.’”
A mature woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh!” The eagerness in her voice made me wince. “Of course, darling. Where should we meet?”
“The coffee shop on Mill Street? The quiet one?”
“Perfect. You’re such a thoughtful daughter, Emerald. So different from how I was with my mother.”
The irony of her words was a dagger to my heart. “See you at two, Mom.” I then hung up.
A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Midjourney
The bell above the door chimed as my mother entered the coffee shop that afternoon, her eyes immediately finding my purse on the table.
She was wearing her favorite red blazer — the one she always wore to important meetings.
She sat down, reaching for my hand across the worn wooden surface. “You look exhausted, sweetheart. This has all been so hard on you, hasn’t it? You and your grandmother were so close.”
I just nodded and placed a wrapped bundle on the table. Inside were blank pages with just two letters on top — Grandma’s “I know what you did” one, and one I’d written myself.
A mature woman holding a small gift-wrapped package | Source: Midjourney
“What’s this?” she asked, her perfectly manicured nails breaking the seal on the first envelope. I watched as the color completely drained from her face when she opened the second one, her fingers gripping the paper so tightly that it crumpled at the edges.
My letter was simple:
“Mom,
I have the rest of the letters. If you ever try to manipulate me or come after what Grandma left me, everyone will know the truth. All of it.
Emerald”
A mature woman gaping in shock while holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
“Emerald, honey, I—”
I rose before she could finish, watching years of deception dissolve in her tears. “I love you, Mom. But that doesn’t mean you can manipulate me. You lost my trust. Forever.”
With that, I turned around and stormed out, leaving her alone with the weight of her lies and the ghost of Grandma’s truth. I realized some lies can’t stay buried forever, no matter how hard you try.
A young woman in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
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