Kate inherited an old wreck of a car from her grandmother…

Lena’s tone was final, and without waiting for a response, she turned and strode toward her car, a sleek, gleaming machine that stood out like a beacon of modernity in the cemetery’s bleak landscape. Katie watched her go, her heart sinking further. The sight of Lena’s retreating figure only deepened her sense of abandonment, as if the last threads connecting her to family were fraying before her eyes.

The next day, the notary’s office was a claustrophobic box of stale air and tension. Katie sat stiffly, her hands clasped in her lap, while her husband Igor loomed behind her, his presence heavy with disapproval. Igor had never hidden his disdain for Grandmother Maria.

Dismissing her as a relic of a bygone era, her stories of wartime struggles and her cluttered old house filled with useless junk, an irritation he couldn’t abide. To him, Maria’s attachment to the past was a flaw, and Katie’s quiet devotion to her grandmother was a source of constant frustration. The notary, an older man with a weary expression, cleared his throat and began reading Maria’s will.

Lena was bequeathed a stunning seaside cottage, a dream property that perfectly suited her glamorous aspirations. Katie, however, inherited Maria’s ancient Volga, a rusty, dilapidated car that hadn’t moved from the garage in years. The words hung in the air, heavy and surreal, broken only by the faint rustle of the notary’s papers.

Lena’s eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and smug satisfaction flickering across her face. Igor let out a sharp, derisive laugh. This is absurd, Igor exploded, stepping forward, his face flushed with anger.

She gets a beach house and Katie’s stuck with that worthless pile of scrap metal? There’s got to be a mistake. The notary adjusted his glasses, unruffled. This is the deceased’s final wish.

Everything is legally documented and binding. Lena’s lips curled into a condescending smile. I’m thrilled about the cottage, of course, she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy.

But that Volga? It’s practically a joke. Grandma must have been out of her mind. Katie sat in stunned silence, her mind a whirlwind of confusion.

Why had Maria made this choice? The Volga was a relic, its paint chipped and faded, its body pockmarked with rust. In her childhood, Katie had loved listening to Maria’s stories about the car, tales of dusty roads and secret errands. But those memories felt like fragments of a dream, distant and half forgotten.

What was her grandmother trying to tell her through this strange bequest? Back home, Igor’s rage boiled over. In their cramped living room, he unleashed a torrent of venom, his words cutting deeper than any autumn wind. You’re useless, Katie, he shouted, grabbing her shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin.

You can’t even inherit something worth a damn. Who needs that rusted out wreck, Katie tried to protest, her voice trembling. It’s not my fault, Igor, I didn’t ask for this.

But Igor was deaf to her pleas, consumed by greed and fury. Pack your things and get out, he roared, shoving her toward the door. You’re nothing to me anymore.

The words hit like a physical blow. Katie stood frozen, disbelief washing over her. After years of marriage, of enduring Igor’s moods, his criticisms, his control, how could he cast her aside so easily? Where am I supposed to go, she whispered, tears streaming down her face…