When my son, Stuart, asked to throw his birthday party at my house, I was thrilled and said yes without hesitation. It felt like a rare chance to reconnect. But the next morning, I returned home to find the house wrecked—broken windows, burn marks, shattered dishes, and a flippant note: “We had a bit of a wild party to say goodbye to our youth. You might need to tidy up a little.”
I was heartbroken. Stuart ignored my desperate calls, and I collapsed in tears on the floor. Hours later, my elderly neighbor Martha showed up, saw the damage, and simply said, “You absolutely need to come over later. We have to talk.”When I visited her estate that afternoon, she surprised me by inviting Stuart too. He showed up cheerful, expecting something good. And at first, he got it—Martha said she planned to gift her house to someone she trusted. Stuart lit up,