When my grandma got sick, I was the one who showed up—chemo rides, meds, groceries, sleeping on her couch. My sisters sent texts, posed at the funeral, then disappeared. Before she passed, Grandma June warned me: “They’ll come running when I’m gone. If it turns into a circus, take Scout.”
At the will reading, my sisters got the house. I got Scout—the dog. They laughed.
That night, I found a QR code on Scout’s tag. It unlocked a hidden message and instructions leading to a storage unit filled with proof: a ledger of unpaid loans and a trust clause protecting the estate if they tried to sell.
Scout wasn’t just a dog. He was Grandma’s final test—and her way of protecting what mattered most.