“Get ready, Mum and my brother are coming to claim their share”: You’ve robbed your own brother, you’ve no shame at all.
I gave up my share of the inheritance to my father, only for him to gift me his entire flat. His words still echo in my mind: “You’ll understand later. Just don’t trust them—they’ll lie.” At the time, I didn’t know who he meant, but now it all makes sense.
My name is Emily. I have an aunt, Faith, my mum’s younger sister. She and Mum hadn’t spoken in years—rumour had it Faith took everything from Gran’s will. I knew I had cousins, Oliver and Harriet. We played together as kids, but then lost touch. Recently, Harriet found me on social media and told me something that made my blood run cold.
The past few years have been full of loss. Three years ago, Mum passed away. Dad waited until I graduated from university in Manchester before joining her. They adored each other—he spoiled her rotten, always carrying her bags, bringing her flowers. I don’t think he ever got over her death.
After Mum died, Dad inherited half our flat. I signed my share over to him, and to my surprise, he transferred the whole property to me. “You’ll understand one day,” he said. “Don’t trust them—they’ll lie.” I tried pressing him—who were *they*? What lies? But he wouldn’t say more.
Six months after his funeral, Harriet messaged me. She reminded me she was Faith’s daughter and said she’d be passing through Manchester soon. “We need to talk,” she wrote. “It’s important.” I saw no reason to refuse, gave her my number and address, and asked her to call ahead.
Harriet arrived a week later. I met her at the station—she seemed jumpy. Back at the flat, she glanced around and said, “Nice place. Shame you’ll have to leave soon.” In the kitchen, she dropped the bombshell: Oliver was my half-brother. She didn’t have details, but claimed that was why Gran left everything to Faith instead of splitting it.
Harriet said Dad had first dated Faith, but when she got pregnant with Oliver, he left her and married Mum. “Mum and Oliver are coming to claim their share,” she warned. “Be ready.”
I was stunned. Oliver wouldn’t get a penny—the flat’s in my name, Dad kept his savings at home because he hated banks, and I bought the car myself. Everything Dad had was now mine. The story about a half-brother sounded far-fetched—Dad worshipped Mum too much for that. But then again, anything’s possible.
“Thanks for telling me, Harriet,” I said. “Let them come.”
I set up the spare bed and went to sleep. I’m a light sleeper, so when I heard shuffling in the night, I woke instantly. Harriet was rifling through my drawers, using her phone as a torch.
“Lose something?” I asked.
She startled—the phone slipped from her hand and smashed on the floor.
“I—it’s nothing,” she stammered.
“Go back to bed, Harriet. And leave in the morning. I don’t want guests who snoop.”
By dawn, she was gone. The front door was slightly ajar. I checked—nothing seemed missing.
A few days later, Faith called. She sounded drunk.
“You tricked your dad into leaving you the flat, didn’t you?” she screeched. “Robbed your own brother, you heartless girl! He’s married, stuck renting, and it’s all your mum’s fault! If not for her, your dad would’ve married *me*. She ruined everything!”
I hung up. She didn’t call back, but Harriet kept ringing, demanding I replace her phone—apparently *my* fault it broke.
Faith and Oliver never showed. Maybe Harriet told them the flat was mine, and there was nothing they could do. After dealing with that lot, I finally understood why Mum kept her distance. Some relatives are worse than strangers.
