I was raised by my grandmother. When she died, she left behind four houses. In her will, Grandma Rose divided the properties, one for each of her four sons’ sons. One house for each of my cousins. My name wasn’t mentioned once. My uncle, Ben, sobbed uncontrollably, but then his tears dried up as his eyes started sizing up the mahogany furniture around me. "Ava," he said, his voice suddenly stripped of grief, "this house belongs to your cousin now. I'll give you two days to pack your things and get out." He paused, adding as an afterthought, "My mother loved her vintage silk gowns. She had over twenty of them in that wardrobe. You can take those, as a little something to remember her by." I nodded, tears blurring my vision. That night, I saw my grandmother in a dream. She was smiling, and she asked if I was angry with her for leaving me nothing. I shook my head, crying, and told her I didn't want the property, I just wanted her back. Grandma Rose stroked my hair, her touch feeling impossibly real. "Oh, my sweet girl, such foolish words," she murmured. "Now, listen to me. Get up and open that wardrobe. Grandma’s left you a little something special." 1 The memorial in the living room had just been taken down. Tomorrow, I would have to leave the old house I had called home for fifteen years. My parents died in a car crash when I was three. It was Grandma Rose who pulled me back from death’s door, feeding me warm broth and soft porridge, one spoonful at a time, nursing me back to life. She was a formidable woman, tough as nails with everyone but me. With me, she was always soft. If it hadn't been for the sudden heart attack, she would have been with me for many more years. I’d spent the last few days weeping until I felt hollowed out. But my four wonderful uncles, upon hearing of her death, had a first reaction that was chillingly uniform. "So… what did Mom leave behind?" I handed them the envelope my grandmother had prepared three years ago. Inside was a single phone number. My third uncle, Frank, his hand trembling, dialed the number. A lawyer arrived shortly after. He was dressed in a crisp black suit, his face an emotionless mask as he opened his briefcase and produced the will. "...The four properties under my name will be inherited by my grandsons: the eldest, Will; the second, Leo; the third, Jake; and the fourth, Finn. Each shall inherit one house." As the last word was spoken, a collective, audible sigh of relief filled the room. The men deflated as if they, not the woman lying in the cold casket, had been the ones holding their breath. My fifth uncle, David, even patted his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. "Thank God Mom wasn't senile. At least she knew better than to leave the family assets to an outsider." As he spoke, his eyes darted pointedly in my direction. I said nothing. It felt like a hollow cavity had been carved into my chest, and a bitter wind was whistling through it. Grandma Rose used to say, "A woman makes her way in this world with her own two hands and the skills she carries." She had already given me the greatest gift by raising me; I never once thought to fight for these material things. The lawyer packed up his documents. Before he left, he gave me a long, meaningful look. At the time, I didn't understand the depth of what he was trying to convey. The crowd dispersed, leaving only Uncle Ben behind. He started by squeezing out a few crocodile tears, pulling me into a theatrical hug. But halfway through his performance, his gaze began to wander, appraising the fine lines of the furniture. "Ava, don't be too hard on your grandmother," he said, patting my shoulder. "This house belongs to your cousin now. Business is business, you understand. It's just not right, a young woman like you living here alone." He cleared his throat, putting on an air of generosity. "I'll tell you what. I'll give you two days. Pack up and be out." I clenched my fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms I should have felt pain, but I felt nothing. Uncle Ben didn't notice. His attention was now fixed on the closed doors of my grandmother's wardrobe. "Oh, right. Mom adored those old silk gowns of hers. There are more than twenty in there. The fabric's probably a bit dated, but the styles are classic." "Take them," he offered magnanimously. "A keepsake." Tears streamed down my face as I nodded. The old clothes they scorned were the last tangible connection I had to her. After the burial that afternoon, they were all gone. The sprawling house was suddenly, terrifyingly empty, filled with nothing but the echo of my own memories. That night, I slept in my grandmother’s bed, the scent of her favorite sandalwood soap clinging to the sheets. I buried my face in her pillow and cried for hours, finally drifting into an exhausted sleep just before dawn. And then, I dreamed of her. She was wearing a stunning, moon-white gown, sitting right on the edge of the bed, watching me with a gentle smile. "My sweet girl," she whispered. "Are you angry that Grandma left you nothing?" I threw myself into her arms, the embrace feeling so warm, so real. "I don't want anything," I sobbed. "I just want you back." Grandma Rose stroked my hair and sighed. "We all have our time to arrive, and our time to leave, my dear. I can protect you for a while, but not for a lifetime." "Now, get up. Go and open that wardrobe." Her voice held a spark of mischief. "Grandma’s left you a little something special." 2 I jolted awake. A glance at the digital clock on the bedside table showed 3:00 AM, sharp. My grandmother's words from the dream were seared into my mind, as clear as if she'd just spoken them. My heart hammered against my ribs. As if moved by an unseen force, I slid out of bed and switched on my phone's flashlight. The narrow beam cut through the darkness, landing on the enormous rosewood wardrobe in the corner of her room. Everyone knew what was inside. Just twenty old gowns. But for her to come to me in a dream… there had to be more to it. Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the double doors. The next second, the blinding glint of gold nearly seared my eyes. I stumbled back, the phone almost slipping from my grasp. Steeling myself, I crept closer, my heart pounding. Inside, the twenty gowns hung in a neat row. But under the focused beam of my flashlight, every single one of them was shimmering with an impossible light. It wasn't the sheen of silk. It was… the gleam of gold. My hand trembled as I reached out to touch the nearest gown, a deep emerald green one. The touch was cool, unyielding, with the distinct heft of metal. It was only then that I saw it clearly. This wasn't silk at all. The entire gown had been woven from threads of pure gold, each as fine as a human hair. And the phoenix embroidered on the chest with colored silk thread… its eyes were two pigeon's-egg-sized rubies. I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I turned the light to the sapphire-blue gown next to it. Its traditional knotted buttons were a row of perfectly round, lustrous black pearls. The silvery-white one beside that had its hem dusted with crushed diamonds that fractured the light into a thousand dazzling stars. Twenty gowns. Twenty masterpieces crafted from gold thread, rubies, diamonds, pearls, and the finest jade. Any single one of them was worth enough to make my four uncles, with their eyes glued to property deeds, tear each other apart. I stared, mesmerized, my heart threatening to beat its way out of my chest. This wasn't a wardrobe. It was a vault. A king's ransom disguised as old clothes. My mind buzzing, I took a step back and fumbled for the light switch on the wall. Click. The room was flooded with bright, even light. And just like that, the golden shimmer from the wardrobe vanished without a trace. I froze, then rushed back to look. They were just twenty gowns, hanging neatly in a row. Under the bright overhead light, they looked like ordinary silk and brocade. Beautifully made, certainly, with intricate stitching and vintage charm, but utterly devoid of their previous otherworldly glow. It was as if I had imagined the whole thing. My hand shaking, I reached out and switched the ceiling light off again, leaving only the weak, narrow beam of my phone. The miracle happened again. The gleam of gold thread, the fire of gemstones, the soft luster of pearls—they all burst forth in the focused light, a treasure trove so brilliant it hurt to look at. I understood everything in that instant. Oh, Grandma. My clever, clever Grandma. She had foreseen it all. Who would ever think to look for a fortune hidden in such an unbelievably clever way? And who, in the dead of night, would examine a rack of "unwanted old clothes" with nothing but a single, narrow beam of light? Only me. Her Ava, who loved her so much that I would be up at all hours, missing her. Grandma Rose used to say, "Never depend on anyone else. Always look one step ahead, think one step ahead, and only then, take your step." She hadn't just left me the means to stand on my own two feet; she had meticulously planned how I could secure it safely. An overwhelming wave of love and sorrow washed over me. I pressed my hand to my mouth, choking back silent sobs. But after the tears, a far more practical problem presented itself. How was I going to get all of this out of here without anyone noticing? I was being kicked out tomorrow. These twenty gowns were incredibly heavy. I couldn't possibly move them all by myself. And if I hired a moving company, my four vultures of an uncle would surely see. Even if they couldn't tell what the gowns were made of, the sheer weight and secrecy would make them suspicious. If that happened, I feared I wouldn't make it out of this house, with or without the treasure.
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