In my old age, my children began to remember me, but I will never forget how they treated me.

When my husband left for a younger woman, my children sided with him, the beloved man and director of a large company. For years, they completely ignored me, and I was left alone. Recently, after his death, I learned that he had left all his fortune to his new partner.

That’s when my children came back to me. They visit me more often now, but I know very well why. Recently, my daughter has started to make subtle remarks, suggesting it was time to think about the future and the will. They don’t yet know what I have planned for them, but they will discover it after my death.

The rest of my story can be found in the comments

The years passed, and I existed in a sort of isolation. My children looked at me as a stranger, as if we came from different worlds.

When I divorced, that was the end of our relationship. They chose to strengthen their bond with their father, an influential and respected man, and being with him was definitely more advantageous. As for me, I was left alone, abandoned as a wife and mother.

My children quickly forgot me. I heard about them through mutual friends, seeing them live their lives with their father and his new wife. They traveled, dined in fancy places, made plans, while I remained alone in my apartment, each piece of news hurting me deeply.

One day, I realized that I needed to live for myself. I decided to go work abroad, which allowed me to feel free for the first time in a long while.

I saved quite a bit of money to change my life. I renovated my apartment, bought new furniture, and set aside money for my old age.

In the meantime, my children had started their own families, and I would hear about their weddings, children, and parties. Then came an unexpected event: the death of my ex-husband from a heart attack, leaving all his fortune to his partner. My children found themselves with nothing, and their pain turned into a form of tenderness towards me.

They began to visit me more often, bringing gifts and asking how I was. I welcomed them with a smile, but I knew perfectly well that they had an ulterior motive behind their kindness.

Today, at 72, I am healthy, full of energy, and satisfied with my life. But recently, my daughter started to subtly bring up the subject of inheritance, suggesting that I think about writing a will.

A few weeks ago, my granddaughter, who had recently married, came to visit me.

“Grandma, don’t you get lonely here all by yourself?” she asked with genuine concern.

“No, I feel very good here,” I replied.

“But the apartment is so big,” she continued. “It must be hard to take care of. Maybe my husband and I could move in with you. It would be more fun for you and easier for us – we wouldn’t have to pay rent.”

I smiled, clearly seeing their intentions.

“Who said you shouldn’t pay rent?” I replied calmly. “I’ll give you a good discount.”

My granddaughter was puzzled. She clearly expected me to open the doors and say, “Take everything, I’m happy to give it to you.” But I had a different plan in mind.

A few years ago, I wrote a will, stating that my apartment would be sold after my death, and the money would go to a fund to help sick children.

When my daughter found out about this, she exploded with anger. She accused me of being unfair, of stealing the future from my grandchildren. Then, my son came, subtly suggesting that he could take care of me. But their sudden affection didn’t touch me.

And you, in my place, would you have allowed your granddaughter to live in your apartment?