“You always have room for one more,” his late wife would say with a gentle smile. Mr. Lewis believed in giving back and creating a life of meaning through acts of kindness.
But in his later years, the family that had once filled his home with joy grew distant. His children rarely visited, except when they needed something.
“Dad, it’s tough out there. Just need a little help,” his eldest son, Richard, would say, barely making eye contact before asking for money.
Olivia, his daughter, was no different. “Dad, the kids’ school fees are outrageous. Could you—” she’d start, and before long, he’d be reaching for his checkbook.
Even his grandchildren only came around during holidays, eyeing his home and wealth more than they ever looked at him.
When Mr. Lewis received his terminal diagnosis, he called his family to share the news. Within hours, they flocked to his mansion, putting on their best performances as the “devoted” children and grandchildren.
“We’re here for you now, Dad,” Richard said, patting his father on the shoulder with forced affection.
“We’ve got you, Grandpa,” echoed his teenage granddaughter, Willow, her eyes barely leaving her phone as she spoke.
For weeks, they hovered around him, offering tea they hadn’t brewed themselves and empty words they didn’t mean. Mr. Lewis saw through it all. They weren’t there out of love—they were there for the money. He was no fool, and though his heart ached, he knew exactly what was happening.
When Mr. Lewis finally passed away peacefully in his sleep, the family immediately shifted their focus to the inheritance. The day of the will reading, they packed into the lawyer’s office, eager to claim their share.
“I bet Dad left the most to me,” Olivia whispered smugly.
“Please,” Richard scoffed. “I’m the one with the business sense.”
But the bickering ceased when Mr. Alaric, the family lawyer, entered the room—accompanied by a quiet, 13-year-old girl none of them recognized.
“Who’s the kid?” Richard blurted out, his confidence fading.
“This,” Mr. Alaric announced, “is Harper. She’s here for the reading of the will.”
Confusion rippled through the room as the family exchanged puzzled looks. The lawyer’s next words left them speechless.
“Harper is the sole heir to Mr. Lewis’ entire estate.”
The room erupted into chaos. “What are you talking about?!” Richard shouted. “She’s just a kid! Dad would never do that.”
Olivia’s voice rose in disbelief. “This is absurd! We’re his family—his blood!”
Mr. Alaric raised his hand for silence. “I know this is a shock, but Mr. Lewis left a letter explaining his decision. Allow me to read it.”
The room fell silent, thick with tension, as the lawyer began.
Dear Family, the letter began, I know you’re probably confused, maybe even angry. But please hear me out. Over the past few years, Harper has been my greatest source of joy. She’s the little girl who lived next door. Long before any of you noticed, Harper saw that I wasn’t well. She’d see me struggling to get the mail or sitting alone on the porch.
Harper shifted uncomfortably as all eyes turned toward her, but she stayed quiet, her hands clasped.
Harper visited me every day. Not for money, not for favors. She came to share stories, play cards, or just sit with me. She made me feel less alone. In the years when I needed family the most, Harper was there.
Richard rolled his eyes. “We were busy living our lives, Dad. You should’ve told us you were lonely.”
Ignoring the interruption, Mr. Alaric continued reading.
What you don’t know is that Harper has her own battles to fight. A few months ago, she was diagnosed with a terminal illness—one no child should ever have to face. Despite her struggles, she’s remained a light in my life. She deserves the chance to live her dreams, no matter how short her time may be.
A stunned silence fell over the room as Mr. Lewis’ children absorbed the revelation. Even Olivia, who had been fuming moments earlier, sat quietly, tears welling in her eyes.
By the time you hear this, I’ll be gone. Harper may only have a year or two left, but I’ve made sure she has everything she needs to live those years to the fullest. Instead of fighting over my money, I hope you’ll support her in the way she supported me. Harper showed me love when none of you did. Remember: love is the greatest inheritance.
Mr. Alaric folded the letter, leaving the room heavy with the weight of Mr. Lewis’ words.
Harper stepped forward, her voice small but steady. “Mr. Lewis was my friend. I never wanted his money, just his stories and time.”
Richard cleared his throat, ashamed. “Harper, I’m sorry. We didn’t know…”
“I’m going to use the money to travel with my parents, eat ice cream for breakfast, and live as much as I can,” Harper said. “When I’m gone, the rest will go to other kids who are fighting like me.”
Tears streamed down Olivia’s face. “You’re so brave, Harper. I hope you get to do everything you dream of.”
Over the following months, Harper did just that. She visited the Eiffel Tower, dipped her toes in the ocean, and filled her days with laughter and love. When her time came, she passed away peacefully, surrounded by those she loved.
True to her wishes, the remainder of Mr. Lewis’ fortune was donated to charities that supported children with terminal illnesses, funding research and helping families in need.
Harper’s legacy became a symbol of the power of kindness and the impact of genuine connection. And for Mr. Lewis’ family, the lesson was clear: wealth isn’t measured by money, but by love. Harper had taught them all the true value of life.
I Became a Burden to My Father after I Lost the Ability to Walk – Story of the Day
I Became a Burden to My Father after I Lost the Ability to Walk – Story of the Day
I was paralyzed and trapped in a wheelchair in an accident, and my father refused to be burdened with me. But then he gets taught an important lesson.
I was 19 when I was run over by a car on my way to work. For me, it was the end of the world: a screech of tires, darkness, and pain. And when I woke up, I heard the voices say I’d never walk again.
I kept asking for my father, but he only showed up three days later, looking the worse for the wear and I knew he’d been on a bender while I’d lain there fighting for my life.
She was injured in a horrible accident | Source: Shutterstock.com
My mother died when I was 12, a victim of breast cancer. I remember her as a sweet, weary woman, always cringing from my father’s cruel words, working to keep food on the table while he drank his paycheck away.
As soon as I turned 14, he ordered me to find a part-time job to help with the bills, and when I was 16, I dropped out of school and started working full time to support myself — and him.
But when my father finally arrived at the hospital to visit me, there was neither compassion nor gratitude in his eyes. The doctor explained that although my spine was not severed there had been severe bruising and compression.
I might — by a long shot — recover my ability to walk, but most likely, I would be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. And that was when my father walked away. He said to the doctor, “She’s over 18, isn’t she? She’s an adult, right? So she’s not my responsibility anymore. You take her.”
My father was an alcoholic | Source: Unsplash
I remember my doctor’s horrified expression and my father’s gaze sweeping over my limp legs. “Useless! Useless like your mother!”
Those were the last words I’d hear from him for the next six years. A little while later I was transferred to a recovery center where I was lucky enough to be assigned to a therapist named Carol Hanson.
Family is built on love, not a biological bond, or shared DNA.
She was an older, motherly woman who immediately took me under her wing. Carol was as loving as she was demanding, and she was very demanding. Over the next year, she pushed me towards a recovery I’d never dreamed possible.
The day I stood on my own two feet and took my first step, I cried like a baby, and so did Carol. It was only the beginning, and the next few months I worked even harder, but finally was pronounced healthy.
I woke to discover I was paralyzed | Source: Unsplash
It was a bittersweet moment for me. I was healed from my injury and I was walking again, but I was terrified. I had nowhere to go, no family. I was all alone in the world.
Carol walked in and found me crying. She sat beside me on the bed and put her arms around me. “Jenny,” she said to me, “it’s all right to be scared. You’re starting your life again.”
“I have no one, and nowhere to go,” I whispered, remembering other patients leaving surrounded by loving family, “I’m alone.”
“No you’re not,” Carol said firmly, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Would you like to move in with me? Just until you get your life together again…”
I was stuck in a wheelchair | Source: Unsplash
So I did, and it was lovely. Carol and I got on beautifully, and she gave me my own room, a pretty room, the prettiest I’d ever seen. “It was my daughter’s,” Carol explained with tears in her eyes. “I lost her like you lost your mother.”
I started googling for jobs the next day on Carol’s computer, but when I came down to breakfast there were some informative flyers on the table from the local high school announcing night classes for adults wanting to complete their secondary education.
“I think,” said Carol firmly, “that you need to go back to school so you can go back to college.”
My mouth dropped open. “College? I can’t afford college!” I gasped. “Carol, I don’t have a cent to my name and no way to support myself if I don’t get a job, and quickly.”
The physiotherapist helped me heal | Source: Pexels
Carol shook her head: “No, Jenny, you can’t afford NOT to go to college. Listen, I will lend you the money, and when you graduate, you pay me back — just like a student loan with a bank.”
Anyway, she talked me into it, and I quickly completed the high school certification I needed and applied to the local college. I’ll admit Carol’s example inspired me to become a nurse, and four years later, I graduated summa cum laude.
I started working at a local hospital and ended up specializing in neo-natal care. One day, a TV crew came in to do a news story on a set of identical triplets and ended up interviewing me.
For a while, I was a bit of a celebrity, but the attention brought me an unwanted visitor. The doorbell rang and when I opened it, I was stunned to see my father standing there.
I became a nurse | Source: Pixabay
He looked terrible, like a bum, and he reeked of alcohol and sweat. “Jenny, my sweet baby girl!” he cried, reaching out his hands. “I’ve finally found you again.”
“Found me again?” I asked sharply, “You abandoned me in the hospital because I was useless, remember, like my mother?”
He squeezed out a few tears. “Oh my baby,” he sobbed. “Forgive me, I was frightened and in shock… You won’t turn your dad away now, would you? I haven’t been well…”
“You look fine to me,” I told him coldly, but my trained eye had already noted the yellow tinge to his skin and eyes. He had some kind of liver disorder, probably due to his drinking.
An unexpected visitor | Source: Pixabay
He shuffled forward. “I’m sick, Jenny, daddy really needs you…And…” he licked his lips thirstily. “And I’m broke, baby, no money for food…You’re not going to let your daddy go hungry, are you?”
“Like you left me to my fate? Helpless in a wheelchair? Guess what ‘DADDY,’ I am. Get out.” I slammed the door in his face and walked back into the lounge.
Carol looked up at me and smiled. “Who was that, Jenny?”
“Oh, just some man selling something!” I went to the sofa, sat down beside Carol, and hugged her fiercely. Carol hugged me back.
Carol adopted me | Source: Pexels
“Jenny,” she said, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Would you allow me to adopt you? Become your mother? Because in my heart you already are my daughter.”
I started crying and I just couldn’t stop. I had been cursed with a terrible childhood, and now as an adult, I had been lucky enough to find a loving home and a parent who cherished me.
What can we learn from this story?
1. Family is built on love, not a biological bond, or shared DNA.
2. What you give is what you get, as Jenny’s father discovered.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a beautiful socialite who humiliates an old friend and ends up regretting it.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story but written by a professional writer. All names have been changed to protect identities and ensure privacy. Share your story with us, maybe it will change someone’s life.
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