My grandmother lived a modest life. When she passed away, she left her small house and car to my cousins.
I became the family joke because she only left me her old, worn-out sofa. I took it to a guy to fix it up.
The moment he saw it, he turned pale and said, “Are you sure you want to restore this?
It’s in awful shape.
You’d be better off getting a new one; it would be cheaper anyway.” I insisted because I knew how much the sofa meant to her.
A day later, I got a call from him. He sounded flustered and asked me to visit him right away.
It turns out that instead of regular cushions and support, the sofa was stuffed with stacks of dollar bills and gold coins—$340,000 in total.
I was shocked and couldn’t speak for days. I knew my grandmother wouldn’t leave me with nothing; we always had a special bond.
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