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When my grandmother passed away, I thought the only thing she left me was a modest $50 gift card—hardly the inheritance one dreams of, but perfectly fitting for a woman renowned for her extreme frugality. Little did I know, that small card would unlock a secret life she had hidden from all of us.
That’s when everything changed. The cashier’s hands trembled as she took the card. Her eyes widened, her face suddenly pale. “This can’t be right,” she whispered. “Where did you get this?”
“It belonged to my grandma,” I said, my voice shaky.
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