The moment I saw my brother cruising around in a shiny red convertible, I knew something was off. Little did I know, that car held the key to a betrayal I never saw coming — and a plan Gran had set in motion long before she was gone.
My name is Juniper. I’m 26 now, and I’ve been living out of state for four years. Honestly, it was the best decision I ever made: to get away from my family and from all the hurt that came with it.
It wasn’t like I ever felt a part of them. My parents had always favored my older brother, Maverick. You could say he was the golden child, but that doesn’t even cover it. Growing up, I was just… there. The “spare,” as Gran used to joke, though there was always a tenderness in her voice when she said it.
That’s part of why I left. Well, that, and Noel — my boyfriend. He convinced me it was time to live for myself, to create something outside the shadows of my family.
We packed up our little car, and I moved with him to the city, away from my parents, Maverick, and all the memories.
“Noel, I swear, I just couldn’t stay there anymore,” I had told him over dinner once. I still remember the way he’d smiled at me from across the table, his hand reaching out to grab mine.
“You don’t need to explain it to me again, June. You did the right thing,” he had reassured me, squeezing my hand. “You deserve more than being the second choice.”
Even after four years away, I barely spoke to my family. Calls came less frequently, texts became a rare formality. My parents? They didn’t seem to mind, honestly. It was like I had just faded out of their lives. The only one who stayed in touch was Gran.
She was the one person in my family who made me feel like I mattered. When I was younger, she’d sneak me chocolate bars when my mom wasn’t looking, or call me on the phone late at night just to hear how my day went.
Gran didn’t care if it was boring or if I felt like my life was a mess. She just listened.
And then, one day, I found out she died. Accidentally. No call, no message, nothing. Can you believe that? I was scrolling through Facebook, of all places, and saw a post from an old family friend. Gran’s picture. A date and a “Rest in Peace” note.
I couldn’t breathe. I stared at my phone, waiting for things to make sense, but they didn’t. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest.
I dropped my phone on the table, stood up, and muttered, “Gran’s gone.”
Noel looked up from the couch. “What? What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She died. No one even told me.” I could feel the burn of tears, but it was more than sadness; it was anger and perhaps betrayal. “How could they not tell me?”
Noel was up in a second, pulling me into a hug, but it didn’t make any sense. Why hadn’t my parents called me? Even Maverick. Nothing.
I booked a flight back home that same night.
I didn’t care what it took — I had to visit Gran’s grave. I had to say goodbye, at least on my own terms. The next morning, I found myself walking through my hometown, the place I hadn’t seen in years, the place I had fought so hard to escape. Everything was as I remembered, except one thing.
I blinked, stunned. “The… what?”
As I stood at the corner of the street near the cemetery, I spotted something that made my blood run cold. My brother, Maverick, cruising by in a shiny red convertible.
Maverick? The one who still worked as a cashier, who could barely make ends meet? He was driving a red convertible that looked like it cost more than his entire life savings.
My stomach churned. Something wasn’t right.
Later that day, I found myself standing by Gran’s grave, the soft rustle of the trees the only sound around. The earth was still fresh, and I couldn’t shake the knot in my stomach. Gran was really gone. I hadn’t been able to say goodbye properly: no chance to tell her how much she meant to me.
The pain of finding out about her death through a Facebook post still stung like an open wound.
As I knelt beside the grave, I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up to see Mr. Anderson, Gran’s best friend. He was a kind, older man, always hovering around Gran, helping her with anything she needed. His face was somber as he approached.
“Juniper, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, standing beside me. “Your Gran… she was a one-of-a-kind lady.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She really was. I just wish I had more time with her.”
He nodded, his eyes distant. Then, after a moment of silence, he turned to me and asked, “Did you get the $20,000 she left you?”
I blinked, stunned. “The… what?”
Mr. Anderson’s brow furrowed. “Your Gran. She mentioned in her will that she set aside $20,000 for you. I just assumed you knew.”
My heart dropped. Suddenly, the red convertible Maverick was driving made all the sense in the world. The anger that had been simmering inside me boiled over. “No,” I muttered, standing up, fists clenched at my sides. “I didn’t know.”
Mr. Anderson’s face paled. “Oh, Juniper, I’m so sorry.”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. I had to get to Maverick’s trailer. Now.
I stormed back to my car, my mind racing. Maverick, who could never hold down a steady job, was suddenly driving around in a flashy car, and I hadn’t thought twice about it? Of course, it was my money. The money Gran left me — the one person in my family who actually cared about me — and he stole it without a second thought.
When I pulled up to Maverick’s trailer, I was ready for a full-blown confrontation. But what I saw stopped me in my tracks. There, crumpled in the driveway, was the red convertible, completely wrecked. The front bumper was smashed, the windshield shattered, and the tires looked flat, like the car had been in a serious accident.
And there, standing in the doorway of his beat-up trailer, was Maverick. He was leaning on crutches, a cast covering his leg, and his face was bruised, a mess of cuts and scrapes.
Karma had already caught up with him.
I walked up to him, my anger momentarily replaced by shock. “Maverick, what the hell happened?”
He shifted uncomfortably on his crutches, his eyes darting away from mine. “It’s… it’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” I gestured at the totaled car. “That doesn’t look like nothing. What did you do? And why did you take Gran’s money, Maverick?”
He winced, knowing he couldn’t avoid it any longer. “I didn’t mean for it to go like this, Juniper. I… I just thought I’d borrow it. I was gonna pay you back. But then I saw that car, and…”
“Borrow it?” I was incredulous. “You don’t just ‘borrow’ twenty thousand dollars that wasn’t left to you. Gran left that money for me, and you took it like it was nothing. And now look at you. This is karma, Maverick. This is what you deserve.”
Maverick opened his mouth to protest, but I wasn’t finished. “You’ve always taken everything. My parents’ attention, their affection: everything was always about you. But this? This was different. This was from Gran, the one person who actually gave a damn about me, and you stole it.”
Maverick hung his head. “I messed up, okay? I thought—”
“You thought what?” I snapped. “That I wouldn’t find out? That I didn’t deserve what Gran left me?”
He didn’t have an answer. We stood there in silence, the weight of everything hanging in the air. Then, just as I was about to turn and leave, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Mr. Clearwater, Gran’s lawyer.
“Mr. Clearwater?” I answered, keeping my eyes on Maverick.
“Juniper, I’ve been going over your grandmother’s will,” Mr. Clearwater said. His voice was calm and steady, as though he knew I needed some reassurance. “There’s something you should know. Your grandmother predicted this might happen.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.
“She knew Maverick might try to take the money, so she had a plan in place. The $20,000 was only a part of her estate. The rest of it — her house, her savings, her investments — it’s all yours, Juniper. She left everything to you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Everything?”
“Yes, everything,” Mr. Clearwater confirmed. “Your grandmother was very clear. She wanted to ensure you were taken care of, so you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, but they weren’t just from sadness. Gran had known. She saw this coming, every bit of it, and she had protected me in the way only she could. Even in death, she was still looking out for me: still showing me that I mattered.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I looked at Maverick. “I hope that convertible was worth it, Maverick. I hope you enjoyed the ride.”
“Juniper, I—” he started, his voice shaky.
I held up my hand, cutting him off. “Don’t. I’m done with excuses, Maverick. Just save it.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, broken in more ways than one. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like the forgotten sibling. Gran had made sure of that.
If this story touched your heart, take a look at another exciting read: When my grandmother asked us to come to her place to celebrate her birthday, I didn’t expect my family to do what they did! Grandma was hurt by their actions, and I wasn’t willing to let my family go unpunished. So I came up with a plan that put them in their place!
Kris Kristofferson, the actor from A Star Is Born and a country music legend, has passed away at the age of 88.
Kris Kristofferson, the much-loved actor and country music singer-songwriter, passed away at his home in Maui on September 28.
Kris Kristofferson, the famous actor and country singer-songwriter, has passed away at the age of 88.
A representative said he was surrounded by his family and died “peacefully” at his home in Maui on Saturday, September 28.
In a statement shared with PEOPLE, his family said, “It is with heavy hearts that we share the news that our husband, father, and grandfather, Kris Kristofferson, passed away peacefully at home on Saturday. We feel so blessed to have had our time with him. Thank you for loving him all these years, and when you see a rainbow, know he’s smiling down at us all.”
Kris Kristofferson was born on June 22, 1936, in Brownsville, Texas. His parents were Mary Ann and Lars Henry Kristofferson, who was a Swedish immigrant and an Air Force general. Kris developed a love for country music early on and wrote his first song, “I Hate Your Ugly Face,” when he was just 11 years old. As a military kid, he moved a lot before his family settled in San Mateo, California, during his teenage years.
According to his website, Kris had two short stories published in Atlantic Monthly when he was 18. In 1954, he went to Pomona College in California, where he played football, boxed in Golden Gloves competitions, and was the sports editor for the school newspaper. He was even featured in Sports Illustrated’s “Faces in the Crowd” issue in 1958. After graduating with a degree in creative writing, he earned a Rhodes Scholarship and completed his master’s in English literature at Oxford University in 1960.
According to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, after college, Kris Kristofferson’s parents encouraged him to join the military. He enlisted in the U.S. Army and, within five years, became a helicopter pilot and reached the rank of captain. While stationed in West Germany in the early 1960s, he continued writing songs and formed a band with other soldiers. After his service, he was offered a job teaching English at West Point military academy.
However, during a visit to Nashville, Tennessee, while on leave, he rediscovered his love for music. This led him to leave the Army in 1965 and pursue a career in music full-time. In a 2010 interview, Kris said, “I just fell in love with the music community there. The older musicians really supported the newcomers, and it was a very soulful time. It was the best decision I ever made.”
In Nashville, Kris Kristofferson worked as a night janitor at Columbia Studios while submitting songs he wrote, like “For the Good Times” and “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down.” “For the Good Times” was first recorded by Bill Nash in 1968, but it became a hit when Ray Price released his version in 1970. The song appeared on Kristofferson’s debut album and earned a Grammy nomination for Best Country Song in 1972. It was even covered by soul legend Al Green.
Kristofferson’s song “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down,” also from his first album, was picked up by Ray Stevens and Johnny Cash. Cash’s version became a hit, winning Song of the Year at the 1970 CMA Awards and reaching No. 1 on the country charts.
Another famous Kristofferson song, “Me and Bobby McGee,” co-written with Fred Foster, was released on Janis Joplin’s posthumous 1971 album Pearl. The song became a massive hit, reaching No. 1 on the pop charts and earning two Grammy nominations in 1972. That same year, Kristofferson won his first Grammy for Best Country Song for Sammi Smith’s version of “Help Me Make It Through the Night.”
Throughout the 1970s, Kristofferson released more albums and hits, including “Loving Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again)” and “Why Me,” which earned two Grammy nominations. He also worked with his second wife, singer Rita Coolidge, on several albums, winning two Grammys for their duets “From the Bottle to the Bottom” and “Lover Please.”
In a 1970 New York Times article, Kristofferson was described as “a poet more than a musician,” admired for his ability to connect country, pop, and underground music.
Kristofferson also became a successful actor, appearing in films like Cisco Pike (1972), Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid (1973), and Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974). Despite having no acting experience, he felt confident about acting and took on roles based on his understanding of the characters.
His big break came with his role as a troubled rock star in the 1976 remake of A Star Is Born, alongside Barbra Streisand. This role won him a Golden Globe for Best Actor in 1977. He later became known for playing Whistler in the Blade trilogy with Wesley Snipes.
Music was always a big part of Kris Kristofferson’s life. He teamed up with Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, and Willie Nelson to form the country supergroup The Highwaymen. Their first album, Highwayman, and its title song topped the country charts in 1985. The group released two more albums: Highwayman 2 in 1990 and The Road Goes On Forever in 1995.
Throughout his long career, Kristofferson received many awards, including three Grammys and a lifetime achievement award from the Recording Academy in 2014. He was also nominated for an Oscar in 1985 for Best Original Song for the movie Songwriter, in which he starred with Willie Nelson. In 2004, he was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame.
In 2013, Kristofferson shared his struggle with memory loss. At first, doctors thought he had Alzheimer’s, but it turned out to be Lyme disease, according to CBS News. His wife, Lisa Kristofferson, explained that once he got the right treatment, his condition improved quickly.
“He was on all these medications for things he didn’t have, and they had side effects,” Lisa told Rolling Stone in 2016. “But after treatment, he came back. There are still tough days, but some days he seems perfectly normal, and it’s easy to forget he’s even dealing with anything.”
After releasing his final studio album, The Cedar Creek Sessions, in 2016, Kris Kristofferson officially announced his retirement from music in 2021. He also shared that Morris Higham Management would be handling his estate.
Clint Higham, president of the management company, praised Kristofferson, saying, “He is the artist that every artist wants to be. If there were a Mount Rushmore for songwriters, Kris would be on it.”
When asked about the secret to life in a 2017 interview with Men’s Journal, Kristofferson said, “I once made a list of rules. It said: Tell the truth, sing with passion, work with laughter, and love with heart. That’s a good place to start.”
Kris Kristofferson is survived by his wife, Lisa, along with his eight children and seven grandchildren.
He was first married to Frances Beer, and they had two children: daughter Tracy, born in 1962, and son Kris, born in 1968. With his second wife, Rita Coolidge, he had a daughter named Casey in 1974. Kris and Lisa have five children together: Jesse (born in 1983), Jody (1985), John (1988), Kelly Marie (1990), and Blake (1994).
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