When I Borrowed My Aunt’s iPad to Help Fix Her Wi-Fi, I Accidentally Opened a Family Group Chat I’d Never Been Invited To—And What I Read Made My Hands Shake: They Were Secretly Planning to Erase Me From Grandma’s Will Before She Passed, and I Wasn’t Supposed to Know.

Story: “The Secret Chat”

Chapter 1: The iPad

I wasn’t supposed to see it.

If I’d known what opening that iMessage icon would reveal, I’d have handed my aunt’s iPad right back and walked away. But life doesn’t warn you before it shatters your view of family.

It all started on a gray Sunday morning in March. My Aunt Lisa called, frantic as always.

“Evan, can you come take a look at Grandma’s Wi-Fi? The tablet’s acting up again. You’re the tech genius in the family, right?”

I laughed. “Sure, Aunt Lisa. I’ll stop by after work.”

My grandmother’s house had always been a comfort—scented candles, floral couches, and her favorite wind chimes singing in the front yard. But that day, something felt… different.

Grandma was resting upstairs after her dialysis. Aunt Lisa hovered over me as I worked on the iPad at the kitchen table, pretending to make tea but watching me too closely.

It only took a minute to reconnect it to the Wi-Fi. Easy fix. Then, just as I was about to close the settings app, a notification banner appeared on the screen:

Family Group 💰 — “Don’t tell Evan anything yet. He’ll find out soon enough.”

My stomach tightened.

I shouldn’t have tapped it. But curiosity—and a creeping sense of dread—made my finger move before reason could stop it.

The chat opened. And what I saw next changed everything I thought I knew about my family.

Chapter 2: “We Need to Finalize the Will”

The messages scrolled up endlessly. My name appeared again and again, highlighted in blue.

Aunt Lisa: “Mom’s will still lists Evan as a beneficiary. We need to update it before she signs.”
Uncle Brian: “Agreed. He’s barely around. Why should he get a third of the estate?”
My Cousin Mandy: “We’ll tell Grandma he’s too busy to visit, that he doesn’t care.”
Aunt Lisa: “Perfect. She’ll listen to us. She’s fragile now.”

I froze.

They weren’t just talking about me—they were scheming.

The chat stretched back months. There were discussions about doctors, appointments, and “making sure Grandma doesn’t get confused.”

Then, three weeks earlier:

Aunt Lisa: “Got the lawyer’s new draft. We’ll meet next week to review it.”
Mandy: “What about Evan?”
Uncle Brian: “Leave him out. Mom trusts us.”

My pulse pounded in my ears.

They were manipulating my grandmother—my sweet, soft-spoken grandma who had practically raised me after my mom died.

The woman who used to pack me lunch every day, whispering, “Family takes care of family.”

I felt sick.

Chapter 3: The Confrontation That Didn’t Happen

I locked the iPad, set it down, and walked outside before I could explode.

The sky was heavy with clouds, wind pushing through the oak trees. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely light a cigarette.

They were planning to erase me from her life—and her legacy—like I was some inconvenience to be edited out.

I replayed years of family dinners, fake smiles, “We’re so proud of you, Evan.”

How long had they been pretending?

When I finally walked back inside, Aunt Lisa was wiping down the counter, humming as if nothing was wrong.

“Everything fixed?” she asked.

I forced a smile. “Yeah. All good.”

Because I wasn’t ready to confront her—not yet.

Not without proof.

Chapter 4: The Evidence

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

Every text I’d seen replayed in my mind like a poison loop.

By morning, I’d made a decision: if my family wanted to play dirty, I’d play smarter.

I drove to the local electronics store, bought a small external drive, and came back that afternoon pretending I needed to “check something” again on Grandma’s tablet.

Aunt Lisa was out running errands. Perfect.

I connected the iPad, opened the chat again, and screenshot everything.

Hundreds of messages—timestamps, names, even photos of the draft will with my name crossed out.

Then I noticed one more message—new, from that morning:

Aunt Lisa: “The lawyer’s coming Tuesday. After that, it’s final.”

I had three days.

Three days to stop them.

Chapter 5: Grandma’s Voice

That evening, I went upstairs to see Grandma.

She was sitting in her favorite chair, knitting a half-finished scarf, her eyes bright but tired.

“Evan,” she said softly, smiling. “You’ve been quiet lately. Everything okay?”

I hesitated, studying her face. Did she know what was happening? Or were they keeping her in the dark, too?

“Grandma,” I said carefully, “has Aunt Lisa or Uncle Brian talked to you about your will recently?”

She paused mid-stitch. “Oh… yes, dear. They said the lawyer wanted to make sure everything’s up to date. I’m not good with that paperwork anymore.”

“What did they tell you to change?”

Her brow furrowed. “Nothing important, I think. They said you’re busy with work, and it might be simpler if—”

I felt my throat tighten.

“Grandma,” I said softly, kneeling beside her. “That’s not true. I’ll always have time for you. They’re not telling you the truth.”

Her eyes filled with confusion—and then something else. Realization.

“Oh, Evan,” she whispered. “I thought it was strange. You never stopped calling. You never stopped visiting.”

I took her hand. “They’re trying to cut me out. I have proof.”

She looked at me for a long moment—then squeezed my fingers, firm and certain.
“Bring me that proof, darling.”

Chapter 6: The Family Meeting

On Tuesday morning, the house was buzzing. Aunt Lisa had baked muffins, Uncle Brian was in a tie for once, and Mandy was scrolling through her phone, pretending not to look nervous.

The lawyer, Mr. Caldwell, arrived around ten—a tall man with silver hair and a calm voice.

As soon as Grandma came downstairs, Aunt Lisa was at her side, arm linked tight. “Mom, the lawyer’s here to go over your updates!”

But Grandma’s eyes found mine across the room. And for the first time in a long while, she looked sharp. Alert.

“Let’s sit at the table,” she said.

I stayed silent as Mr. Caldwell began reading the proposed revisions. Each one stripped me further out—removing my share of the estate, my right to the land, even a small savings account Grandma had once told me was “for your first home.”

Finally, Grandma held up her hand. “That’s enough.”

“Mother,” Aunt Lisa began nervously, “we’re just trying to simplify—”

“Quiet,” Grandma said, her voice like ice. “Evan, would you show Mr. Caldwell something, please?”

I plugged my drive into the TV and opened the screenshots.

Message after message flashed across the screen.

Every text. Every lie. Every scheme.

The room went silent—except for Aunt Lisa’s sharp gasp.

“Where did you get that?” she hissed.
“From your iPad,” I said. “You asked me to fix it. I did.”

Mr. Caldwell turned, frowning. “Mrs. Bishop, can you explain this?”

Aunt Lisa stammered, red-faced. “Those were just jokes! Out of context!”
Uncle Brian stood abruptly. “We didn’t mean—”
Grandma’s hand slammed the table.

“Enough!”

Even the lawyer flinched.

She turned to him calmly. “Mr. Caldwell, tear up that draft. We’ll be keeping the original.”

Then, to the rest of them: “You should be ashamed.”

Chapter 7: Aftermath

It’s been six months since that day.

Aunt Lisa still won’t speak to me. Uncle Brian moved two towns over. Mandy occasionally texts me “sorry,” followed by silence.

But Grandma?

She’s doing better. We visit every Sunday now—puzzles, old photos, and too many cookies.

She tells me, “Sometimes, family forgets what love looks like until it’s tested.”

She also had the lawyer amend her will again—this time, leaving everything exactly as it was, plus a trust fund for my future kids.

When I told her she didn’t have to, she smiled.

“I know. But it’s nice to remind people that the truth always finds its way home.”

Epilogue: The New Group Chat

Last week, my phone buzzed with a new notification.

Grandma ❤️ added you to “Family Chat 2.0”

The first message read:

Grandma: “Evan, bring donuts next time. Not secrets.”

I laughed.

Because this time, it wasn’t a chat to erase me—it was a reminder that no matter how twisted family can get, love—and a little courage—can rewrite the story.