At Grandpa’s funeral, 18-year-old Dahlia feels isolated as her family fumes over the pitiful $1 inheritance. But when a stranger slips her a secret note, Dahlia is pulled into a mystery only she can solve.
I stood by the graveside, hands clenched in the pockets of my too-small black dress, listening to the priest’s droning voice blend with the rustle of the wind.
This was the saddest day of my life, but everyone else in the family seemed more concerned with glaring at each other than mourning Grandpa.
I could feel their bitterness lingering in the chilly October air, thick like syrup. One dollar each. That’s all Grandpa left us in his will, and they were furious. But me? I wasn’t angry. Just… hollow.
Grandpa wasn’t supposed to be gone. He was the only person who ever saw me, not the mess-up or the spare kid nobody paid attention to, but me. He let me in when no one else cared.
I stared down at the flowers resting on his coffin. I’d brought him a red rose, and it stood out among the white daisies everyone else had placed on the casket.
“One dollar,” Aunt Nancy hissed from behind me. “One damn dollar! That man was loaded, and this is what we get?”
Uncle Vic let out a bitter laugh. “Right? I swear he did it on purpose, the spiteful old man.”
“Typical Dad,” Mom muttered, crossing her arms tight across her chest. “He always played favorites, and Dahlia here was his little pet. Bet she got something we don’t know about.”
Aunt Nancy’s eyes cut toward me, sharp as glass. “What did he leave you, Dahlia? Anything? Don’t act like you didn’t get something.”
I stiffened. “I got the same as all of you.”
Mom’s fingers tightened over my shoulder. “Are you sure?” she asked in a low voice. “You were always with him. Maybe he told you something… think hard, Dahlia. You owe it to your family to share whatever he gave you.”
Memories came rushing back of Grandpa’s goofy stories about long-lost treasure and the butterscotch candies he always kept in his coat pocket.
Sometimes, he’d wink at me and say, “One day, kiddo, I’m leaving you a treasure. Real treasure!” But it was just a game, a joke between us.
I shook my head and turned my gaze back to the coffin. “What Grandpa gave me was his love, his stories, and a place that felt more like home than my actual home. Those things were worth more than money, and there’s no way I can—”
“Nobody cares about any of that!” Mom snapped. “Think, girl! What happened to all of his money?”
I shrugged. I truly didn’t know the answer to her question and didn’t care. Grandpa was gone. He was my confidant, my safe place, my friend. I’d lost the most important person in the world, but all they cared about was slapping a price tag on his death.
“She knows something,” Vic muttered, loud enough for me to hear.
Their voices twisted together, accusing, scheming — like they could squeeze secrets out of me if they tried hard enough. But I had no secrets that could earn them more money.
The second they realized there’d be no fortune, they turned away from the grave and stormed off. I could still hear them bickering as they walked away, lashing out at each other like vultures. It made me sick.
“You must be Dahlia.”
I looked up to see a woman, maybe in her 60s, with kind eyes and a worn leather bag slung over her shoulder. Her smile was soft and secretive, like she knew something the rest of us didn’t.
“I was a friend of your grandpa’s,” she said, leaning in as if we were co-conspirators. “He asked me to give you this.”
Before I could respond, she slipped a folded piece of paper into my hand and whispered, “Don’t let anyone see it, especially your family.”
Her presence felt surreal, almost dreamlike, and before I could say anything, she was gone, swallowed by the crowd of mourners. My heart pounded in my chest as I unfolded the note.
111 locker — Southern Railway Station.
For a second, I stood frozen, the words blurring in front of me. Then it hit me: Grandpa’s “treasure.” A laugh bubbled up from my throat, inappropriate and wild, but I couldn’t help it. He wasn’t joking after all.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The note was tucked under my pillow like a secret. Grandpa’s voice echoed in my mind, playful yet certain: “Locker number 111… There’s treasure in there, kiddo!”
A weight settled on my chest, something between grief and hope. What if this wasn’t just some wild goose chase? What if Grandpa had really left something for me, hidden away where no one else could reach?
The thought twisted around in my mind until I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to know what was in that locker.
I called a cab the next morning. It was the first thing I did after I woke up. As I tiptoed past the kitchen, I could hear Mom muttering on the phone about Grandpa’s will, probably trying to squeeze sympathy or cash out of anyone who would listen.
I clenched my jaw and slipped out the door, the chilly morning air hitting my skin like a slap.
The ride to Southern Railway Station felt like the longest 20 minutes of my life.
My knee bounced with nervous energy as the cab wound through narrow streets, past graffiti-covered walls, and empty coffee shops just starting to open. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror but didn’t say a word.
When we finally pulled up at the station, I stepped out and asked him to wait for me. I clutched the note tightly as I entered the train station.
The station smelled like diesel and stale popcorn. People rushed past me in every direction — commuters, travelers, strangers with places to go.
I hesitated at the entrance, suddenly feeling small and out of place. But then Grandpa’s voice floated back into my mind, steady and reassuring: “Real treasure, kiddo.”
I took a deep breath and headed toward the lockers and I could hear my heart pounding. Rows of metal boxes lined the wall, each one looking identical: gray, dented, and slightly rusty.
My eyes scanned the numbers until I found number 111.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded note. The key was taped to the back. With trembling fingers, I peeled it off and slid it into the lock.
For a second, it jammed, and I panicked. But then — click! The lock turned, and the door swung open.
Inside was a duffel bag. It was old, faded, and heavy. My hands shook as I pulled it out and unzipped it.
The bag was full of cash. Bundles upon bundles of it!
I gasped, my mind reeling. It couldn’t be real, could it? I reached in and pulled out a stack, flipping through crisp hundred-dollar bills. There had to be at least $150,000 in there.
And tucked inside the bag was another note, written in Grandpa’s messy scrawl:
For my beloved granddaughter, everything I saved is now yours. Take it and live free, kiddo. The rest of the family may not see your worth, but I’ve always believed in you.
Tears blurred my vision, and I hugged the note to my chest, a knot forming in my throat. This wasn’t just money. It was freedom — a way out.
Grandpa always knew how badly I needed to escape this family. And now, he’d given me exactly what I needed and tricked everyone else in the process!
I zipped the bag shut, slung it over my shoulder, and walked out of the station, my heart pounding in tune with my footsteps.
The early morning sun was just starting to peek through the clouds, casting everything in a soft, golden light. For the first time in years, I felt… light.
During the cab ride back, I stared out the window, watching the city come to life. I had options now. No more suffocating family dinners, no more being ignored or treated like an afterthought, no more being the family scapegoat.
I could leave. I could build something new.
The thought scared me as much as it excited me, but Grandpa’s voice echoed in the back of my mind: “Live free, kiddo.”
As the cab pulled up to my house, I made my decision. I wasn’t staying. Not another minute!
I didn’t even bother going inside. I pulled out my phone, booked a ticket to anywhere, and told the driver to head straight to the airport.
With the duffel bag in my lap and Grandpa’s note tucked safely in my pocket, I smiled for the first time in days.
I was free. And for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what that meant.
10 Little-Known Mistakes in Pretty Woman That Will Blow Your Mind
Pretty Woman is one of those movies I can watch over and over — it never gets old or boring.
But considering how many times I’ve seen it, it’s surprising that I’ve never noticed these bloopers and mistakes that tell a different story about the film.
Disney changed everything
*Pretty Woman* became a romantic comedy that captured millions and launched Richard Gere and Julia Roberts to fame.
But that’s not how it was originally meant to be. The first screenplay was titled *3,000*, written by then-struggling screenwriter J.F. Lawton. The early draft dealt with much darker themes about social inequality and corporate greed.
However, everything changed when Disney took over. The company chose to downplay the themes of class and sex work in Los Angeles. Instead, Disney gave it a big budget and turned it more into a romantic comedy.
Al Pacino turned down the lead role
For me, it’s hard to imagine anyone but Richard Gere as Edward Lewis, the wealthy businessman from New York who hires Vivian (Julia Roberts) to be his escort for a week.
The casting process for *Pretty Woman* took longer than expected, with Al Pacino initially in the running for the role of Lewis. The famous actor even took part in a casting reading with Julia Roberts but ultimately decided to pass on the part.
Although he liked the script, Pacino never explained why he turned it down. Looking back, he has shown respect for Roberts, who was a relatively unknown actress at the time.
“I mean, you could tell at the reading that this was going to be good, that it would be a hit,” Pacino said.
He also mentioned: “And this girl was amazing. I asked Gary, ‘Where did you find this girl?’” (Gary being Gary Marshall, the film’s director). Pacino’s instincts were right, as Roberts’s outstanding performance would shape her career and the film’s legacy.
The croissant becomes a pancake
In the scene where Richard Gere’s character orders breakfast in the room, there’s a funny little detail you might not have noticed. It starts with Vivian enjoying a croissant while talking to Edward.
But then, in an instant, the croissant magically turns into a pancake.
How did that happen? According to director Garry Marshall, he liked Julia Roberts’ performance in the later takes, where she was eating a pancake instead of the croissant, so they decided to use that footage.
However, this caused a continuity issue. In the first shot with the pancake, Vivian takes a second bite, but in the next shot, the pancake only has one bite missing, and the bite marks are clearly different.
It’s clearly not the same pancake!
Truth behind the iconic dress
The careful attention to costume design might go unnoticed by most moviegoers. However, whether you notice fashion or not, it’s hard to miss the iconic red dress that Julia Roberts’ character wears in the film.
The red dress represents Vivian’s transformation and empowerment during a key scene in the movie when Roberts’ character joins Edward Lewis for a night at the opera.
Vogue described the dress as “eye-catching, incredibly sexy without losing any elegance.” The genius behind that stunning dress? The award-winning costume designer Marilyn Vance.
She created six fabulous outfits for Julia Roberts’ character, Vivian Ward, and also designed Richard Gere’s stylish looks.
For example, the charming brown-and-white polka dot dress Roberts wore to the horse race was made from old silk found in a small antique fabric shop in Los Angeles — talk about recycling in style! And those chic shoes? They were by Chanel.
Richard Gere’s tie
As for Gere’s wardrobe, it was a masterclass in color coordination, featuring brown, navy, and blue-gray suits, all designed by Vance.
Now, about that famous tie that Roberts takes from a store employee? According to Vance, it was “nothing special” and definitely not a designer piece.
She bought it in a Los Angeles shop for $48.
The tie appears several times in the film, and if you watch closely, you might notice that it mysteriously changes knots from time to time.
During the polo match, Edward wears a straight-collar shirt with the tie that Vivian gave him, knotted in a half-Windsor. But in a later scene, sharp-eyed viewers can see a subtle change — Edward’s collar has turned into a spread style, and the tie is now in a full-Windsor knot.
‘Obscene’ shopping spree
When Richard Gere shows Julia Roberts’ character the glamorous world of the rich, he takes her on a wild shopping spree down Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills.
That afternoon shopping trip? It would have cost Gere’s character at least $30,000, according to designer Marilyn Vance.
Talk about a shopping spree on steroids! It’s like they were shopping with Monopoly money — no wonder Vivian was in a daze.
The ruby-and-diamond necklace was real
The jewelry Julia Roberts wore with her stunning red ball gown — a heart-shaped necklace made of rubies and diamonds — was valued at an incredible quarter million dollars. Yes, you heard that right.
According to movie trivia sites, this ruby-and-diamond masterpiece was the real deal. In fact, while filming, an armed security guard from the jewelry store responsible for this extravagant necklace stood watch behind the director.
Jewelry box scene was a practical joke
The scene where Richard Gere gives Julia Roberts the expensive necklace is not only one of the most romantic and iconic moments in movie history, but it also has a funny backstory.
Originally, it was meant as a playful prank for the film’s gag reel.
As you might remember, the jewelry box snaps shut on Julia Roberts’ fingers, causing one of the most genuine and charming laughs ever caught on film.
The real story behind the scene came from director Garry Marshall, who explained why he and Gere decided to play this trick on the young actress.
According to Marshall, Roberts, who was just 23 at the time, would sometimes show up on set a little sleepy after a late night out.
“I said, ‘Richard, you gotta wake her up a little, so when she reaches for the box, slam it.’ It was a soft box. I would never hurt her,” Marshall explained.
It wasn’t until the final stages of editing that they decided to keep the scene in the movie. “We put it in… and it became like the trademark of the movie,” Marshall said.
And just like that, an unscripted joke turned into cinematic magic.
Edward’s disappearing shoes
As mentioned earlier, there are some mistakes in *Pretty Woman* that aren’t easy to spot on the first viewing, but some keen viewers have noticed them.
For instance, when they leave the opera and head to the park, Vivian takes off Edward’s shoes. However, as he begins to lie down, the shoes magically reappear.
Money in the boot
Speaking of things on (or in) your feet, there’s a little mystery involving Vivian’s boots that you might have missed.
When Edward gives her $100 in the penthouse, she slips the cash right into her boot for safekeeping. But later, after room service arrives with champagne and she takes off her boots, the money has mysteriously disappeared.
Did the cash vanish into thin air, or is Vivian just really good at hiding things? Maybe those boots had a secret compartment, or perhaps the $100 simply didn’t want to stick around for the rest of the film…
Four colored condoms
When Vivian offers Edward a selection of colorful condoms, it seems they have a mind of their own.
Vivian starts with four neatly arranged options (not counting that fancy gold circle one). But in the next shot, the order has magically changed.
Richard Gere didn’t like his character
Richard Gere has certainly gained from the success of *Pretty Woman*—both in his career and his bank account. But he hasn’t always been fully positive about the film, especially regarding his character, Edward. At a film festival in Venice, Gere described Edward as “criminally underwritten.” He added, “Basically, he’s just a suit and a good haircut.”
One scene in particular seemed to bother Gere, where Edward plays the piano while Vivian moves closer. Reflecting on it, Gere sarcastically said, “I mean, no chemistry. This actor and this actress obviously had no chemistry between them… I haven’t seen that in a long time. That’s a sexy scene.”
Director Garry Marshall came up with the idea for the scene after asking Gere what he usually did late at night in a hotel. Gere remembered, “I said, ‘Well, I’m usually jet lagged, so I’m up all night. Usually, there’s a ballroom or a bar, and I’ll find a piano and play it.’” Marshall then suggested, “Well, let’s do something with that.”
So, the scene was mostly improvised, with Gere explaining: “He said, ‘Play something moody.’ I just started playing something moody that reflected this character’s interior life.”
Then, just as mysteriously, the original lineup of condoms snaps back in the third shot. It’s as if the condoms were having their own little dance routine behind the scenes.
More than just onscreen lovers
If you ask me, the chemistry between Julia Roberts and Gere in *Pretty Woman* was undeniable. But the sparks didn’t just fly when the cameras were rolling — they formed a close bond off-screen too.
In 2017, Gere shared that he still talks to Roberts “all the time,” and back in the day, they would chat “three or four times a day.”
You could say it was love at first sight, in a friendly sort of way.
Even in a fairytale romance, things don’t always go as planned. Maybe that’s what makes this movie so charming and keeps us watching it again and again, year after year.
Did we miss your favorite *Pretty Woman* blooper? Share it with us and keep the fun going!
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