Boss Fires Poor Gardener, Humiliating Him—On His Last Day, He Finds a Buried Box in the Backyard

I was crouched in the eastern garden, fingers deep in the cold earth, when Margaret from the kitchen crew rushed toward me. Her face showed clear concern.

"Arthur, did you know? Mr. Stuart returns today. He plans to control everything."

This property felt more like home than anywhere else. Stuart was coming back to take what belonged to him.

I kept silent about the pain that filled my chest when I remembered Jared. He meant more than just being my boss—he was my companion.

We had shared many hours working in the small garden behind the house.

"Grandpa, I completed my schoolwork. May I assist with the planting?"

Eli, my fourteen-year-old grandson, appeared at the garden's border.

The crash two years earlier had claimed my daughter and her husband. Eli became my strength after that tragedy. He showed respect, studied hard, and asked many questions. His passion for reading always impressed me.

A shiny vehicle arrived at the house. Stuart stepped out.

Many years had gone by since our last meeting. He still showed the same pride and selfishness—the identical child who once destroyed irises to anger me.

Those first weeks with Stuart in charge proved harder than I expected.

Workers moved carefully while he examined every area. He fired people for small errors.

Jared had shown kindness and patience. His son displayed coldness and cruelty.

I tried to ignore his constant complaints and how he pretended not to know me. Fear grew inside me—losing this job was not an option.

Weeks became months. Stuart's expensive parties grew more wild. His careless friends drove through the gardens in costly vehicles. They knocked over planters and scattered stones everywhere.

The quiet estate had transformed into a playground for wealthy and thoughtless people.

One morning in late summer, I was preparing to add compost to the garden beds. Heavy footsteps came closer. Stuart marched toward me with anger on his face.

I stood up slowly. My knees hurt. "Good morning, Mr. Stuart."

"Stop that nonsense. Did you notice what happened to my vehicle? Someone damaged the paint. Was your grandson responsible? That silent, suspicious boy?"

"Eli attended school yesterday, sir. He has been in a summer program all week."

"Someone caused the damage. Since you should be watching this property—"

"I work as the gardener, sir. Security is not my job."

Stuart walked away angrily. A unusual calm feeling came over me.

This might be a hidden opportunity.

I took off my work clothes and walked to the garden where Jared and I had once worked side by side.

While I worked, I saw a section of ground that appeared freshly moved. I dug using my hands and touched something hard. After removing the dirt, I found a small wooden box with a basic lock.

The box contained neat stacks of money, small gold pieces, and a folded letter written in Jared's known handwriting.

"This belongs to you, my friend. I understand you require this. With affection, Jared."

Even after death, Jared had discovered a method to care for us. The situation held clear irony—losing my job had brought me to this last present from a real friend.

I said nothing more to Stuart and departed from the estate.

The following day, I went to the bank. I placed everything from Jared's box in a secure vault under Eli's name.

Two years went by faster than I thought possible.

While we created our new existence, Margaret told me news from the estate where she continued working. Stuart's careless behavior had finally destroyed him. He lost everything—the property, the vehicles, and any false sense of power he previously held.