AITA for not telling my uncles we won’t inherit anything?

Before my grandma passed away, she and I had an arrangement.

She gave me money to buy horror novels, and I read them to her twice a week. We spent a fair amount of time together.

During one of our last sessions, she confided in me that she wanted to leave all her money to charities but decided to leave a college fund for my cousin since Uncle Henry lost a massive part of his savings through gambling.

The guy thought he could recover all he lost by making a big bet on Mike Tyson, but then Jake Paul won, so he ended up losing even more.

Grandma asked me not to tell anyone about this, and I agreed. She said she didn’t want people pretending to care about her just for the money, and honestly, I respected that. She had always been sharp, even in her last years.

So, when she passed, my uncles started acting like vultures. Uncle Henry and Uncle Dave kept hinting about their “inheritance” and even started looking at houses way above their means. At every family gathering, the topic would shift to what they were planning to do with their “share.” It was ridiculous. They never spent time with her the way I did.

I stayed quiet. I knew the reading of the will was going to hit them like a freight train, and part of me felt bad, but another part thought they deserved it.

Then came the day of the will reading. The lawyer sat us all down and went through Grandma’s wishes. As expected, most of her money went to charities she supported her whole life. The only family member she left anything significant to was my younger cousin—enough for college.

The silence in the room was deafening. Uncle Henry turned bright red, and Uncle Dave looked like he was going to be sick.

“What the hell is this?” Uncle Henry exploded. “You mean to tell me she left me nothing? NOTHING?”

The lawyer calmly confirmed it.

“Did you know about this?” Uncle Dave turned to me, his eyes narrowed.

I hesitated. “She told me not to say anything.”

“Are you kidding me?” Uncle Henry stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. “You let us believe we were getting something?”

I shrugged. “You assumed.”

“Damn right we assumed! We’re her sons! What kind of person gives their money to strangers instead of their own blood?” Uncle Henry fumed.

“A person who didn’t want to fund your gambling addiction,” I said before I could stop myself.

Uncle Henry’s face twisted in fury. “You little—”

Uncle Dave cut in. “Wait, wait, wait. So she told you she was doing this, and you didn’t think to warn us?”

I shook my head. “She didn’t want anyone sucking up to her just for money.”

There was another heavy silence. I could see the gears turning in their heads, trying to find a way to spin this into them being victims. But deep down, I think they knew.

Uncle Henry stormed out, slamming the door so hard the lawyer flinched. Uncle Dave stayed behind, shaking his head.

“She didn’t even leave you anything?” he asked after a moment.

I smiled. “She left me something more valuable than money.”

He scoffed. “That some philosophical nonsense or what?”

“She left me memories. Time. Stories. The horror novels we read together. The late-night talks. She gave me her trust.”

Uncle Dave just muttered something under his breath and left.

Over the next few weeks, I heard about how both uncles tried to contest the will, but it was airtight. Grandma knew exactly what she was doing. Eventually, the dust settled, but the family dynamic changed forever.

Some people called me cruel for keeping quiet. Others said my uncles deserved it.

AITA?