“Watch out, Mum and your brother are coming to claim their share of the inheritance: Youve cheated your brotheryouve got no conscience.”
“Get ready, Mum and your brother are coming for the inheritance.”
Id given up my share of the inheritance for my father, but in the end, he left me his entire flat. His words still echo in my mind: “Youll understand one day. Just dont trust themtheyll lie.” At the time, I didnt know who he meant, but now it all makes sense.
My name is Emily. I have an aunt, Margaret, my mothers younger sister. They hadnt spoken in yearsrumour had it Margaret had taken our grandmothers inheritance for herself. I knew I had cousins, James and Sophie. We played together as children, then drifted apart. Recently, Sophie found me on social media and told me things that turned my blood cold.
The past few years have been shadowed by loss. My mother died three years ago. My father held on until I finished university in Manchester, then followed her. They loved each other deeplyhe adored her, brought her flowers, sang her praises. I dont think he ever got over losing her.
After Mums death, my father inherited half the flat. I signed my share over to him, but to my surprise, he left the whole place to me. “Youll understand later,” he said. “Dont trust them.” I pressed him about who “they” were and what lies he feared, but he dodged my questions.
Six months after his funeral, Sophie reached out. She reminded me she was Margarets daughter and said shed be passing through Manchester. “We need to talk,” she wrote. “Ive got important news.” I saw no reason to refuse. I gave her my address and number, asking her to let me know before she came.
Sophie arrived a week later. I met her at the stationshe seemed uneasy. Stepping into the flat, she murmured, “Nice place. Shame youll have to leave soon.” In the kitchen, she laid it all out: James was my half-brother. She didnt know the details, but she believed that was why our grandmother left everything to Margaret instead of splitting it between the sisters.
Sophie told me my father had first been with Margaret, left her when she got pregnant, then married my mother. “Mum and James are coming to claim their share,” she warned. “Get ready.”
I was stunned. James wouldnt get a pennythe flat was mine, my fathers savings (kept at home because he didnt trust banks), and the car, which Id bought myself. Everything he owned now belonged to me. The story about a half-brother seemed far-fetchedmy father loved my mother too much for that. But life has a way of surprising you.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Sophie,” I said. “Let them come if they dare, but theyll leave with nothing but their lies.”
And I prepared myself to face them, knowing the truth, as it always does, would come out in the end.
