**”Sister Betrayed First”**
*“How could you?!”* shrieked Emily, waving a crumpled piece of paper. *“How could you sign this rubbish?!”*
Charlotte flinched, set down her teacup, and slowly turned to face her sister. Not a trace of remorse showed on her face—just exhaustion.
*“Signed it, so what?”* She shrugged. *“We have to sell the house anyway. You said so yourself.”*
*“Said so?!”* Emily’s voice trembled with outrage. *“I said we should decide together! Together, Lottie! But you went behind my back, secretly dealing with estate agents! And you set the price at half what it’s worth!”*
*“Not half, just—”* Charlotte began, but Emily cut her off.
*“A third! Big difference, eh? Mum left this house to both of us, understand? Both! But you decided you’re in charge!”*
The kitchen fell silent. Only the old grandfather clock ticked away—the one Mum had brought back from a holiday in France. Charlotte stood by the window, gazing into the garden where they’d once played hopscotch.
*“Do you even realise what you’ve done?”* Emily continued, quieter now. *“My son’s starting university. We need every penny. And your daughter’s getting married—that wedding won’t pay for itself! We both need that money like air!”*
*“Exactly,”* Charlotte turned to her. *“Like air. That’s why I acted fast. Buyers are sniffing around now while our area’s still ‘up-and-coming.’ Wait too long, and no one will want this old place.”*
*“But we had an agreement!”* Emily’s voice cracked. *“You promised we’d decide together!”*
*“Agreements, agreements…”* Charlotte waved a hand dismissively. *“Then you vanished for a week—no calls, no texts. Buyers won’t wait forever. They’ve got options.”*
Emily slumped into a chair, her head in her hands. The contract lay on the table, taunting her.
*“I had to rush to Aunt Mabel’s in Devon,”* she whispered. *“She was ill, all alone. I told you…”*
*“Told me, didn’t tell me…”* Charlotte sighed. *“It’s done. We’ll get the money in a month, split it fifty-fifty, and that’s that.”*
*”That’s that?!”* Emily shot up. *“You think that’s all there is to it?”*
Charlotte poured herself more tea, sitting across from her sister, face calm—almost indifferent.
*“What else? House sold, money divided. Fair’s fair.”*
*”Fair…”* Emily gave a bitter laugh. *“Was it fair not to ask me? Not to wait for me?”*
*“Em, don’t be so dramatic!”* Charlotte rolled her eyes. *“It’s just a house. Neither of us planned to live here.”*
*”Didn’t plan to?!”* Emily’s eyes flashed. *“Who came every weekend? Who dug the garden, fixed the roof? Who helped the neighbours keep an eye on it?”*
*“So?”* Charlotte shrugged. *“Bit of a hobby for you. Meanwhile, I’ve been paying the utility bills all these years.”*
*“Bills…”* Emily stood, walked to the window. *“Lottie, do you even remember our life here? How Mum raised us? The hours we spent at this table doing homework?”*
*“I remember,”* Charlotte said flatly. *“And?”*
*“And?!”* Emily spun around. *“It’s our memories! Our childhood! And you’re flogging it off to some bloke named Clive for peanuts!”*
*”Not peanuts—a decent offer. And not ‘Clive,’ a young family. They need a home; we need cash. Simple.”*
Emily slowly returned to the table, picked up the contract. As she scanned it, her face paled.
*“Lottie, what’s this clause?”* She pointed mid-page. *“It says the sole seller is Charlotte Eleanor Whitmore. Where am I?”*
Charlotte looked away.
*“Technicality. Since I live in London and you’re in Kent. Easier for the solicitor.”*
*”Easier for the solicitor?!”* Emily’s voice rose to a shout. *“Lottie, are you mad? This makes it look like the house is yours! And you’ll ‘generously’ give me half?!”*
*“Oh, pipe down!”* Charlotte winced. *“The neighbours will hear. It’s just paperwork.”*
*“Paperwork…”* Emily sat heavily, breathing hard. *“Lottie, we’re sisters. Same mother, same blood. How could you do this?”*
*“I haven’t done anything!”* Charlotte snapped. *“Sold the house, getting the money, sharing it. What’s the issue?”*
*“You don’t trust me!”* Emily banged the table. *“You decided for me! You think I’m a fool!”*
*“I don’t!”* Charlotte scoffed. *“I’m just practical. Always have been.”*
*“Practical…”* Emily laughed bitterly. *“Remember when Mum was ill? Who visited the doctors? Who stayed at the hospital? Who bought her medicine?”*
*“And?”* Charlotte pursed her lips. *“I was working two jobs to pay for it! You were free, so you played nurse.”*
*”Free?!”* Emily jumped up. *“Lottie, my husband had just died! I was a widow with a child! But I still went to Mum every day!”*
*“And I earned the money for her care!”* Charlotte raised her voice. *“While you were at the hospital, I was working like a dog!”*
*“Working…”* Emily whispered. *“And where were you when Mum was dying? Remember?”*
Charlotte fell silent, staring out the window.
*“I was away. Important work trip.”*
*”Work trip!”* Emily laughed—a hollow, awful sound. *“Mum kept calling for you. Her last words: ‘Where’s my Lottie? Why won’t she come?’”*
*“Stop it,”* Charlotte said quietly.
*“No! We remember!”* Emily slammed her palm on the table. *“I told her you were busy, that you’d come soon. She kept waiting, turning her eyes to the door…”*
*“Shut up!”* Charlotte shouted. *“Just shut up!”*
*“I won’t!”* Emily stepped closer. *“Because it’s true! Mum died, and you only came back for the funeral! Now you’re selling this place like it means nothing!”*
*“It means something!”* Tears streamed down Charlotte’s face. *“Of course it does! But I can’t—I can’t come here! It hurts! Everything smells of her, everything reminds me!”*
*“And it doesn’t hurt me?”* Emily asked softly. *“You think it’s easy for me? That I don’t cry when I hear her voice?”*
Charlotte wiped her eyes with her sleeve, turned away.
*“Then why fight the sale?”*
*“Because it’s our home!”* Emily sat beside her. *“Because our history lives here! Because Mum wanted us to decide together!”*
*“Mum wanted…”* Charlotte whispered. *“And what did Mum want when she wrote the will? Remember?”*
Emily frowned. *“What do you mean?”*
*“She left the house to both of us. But the garden plot—just to you. Recall that?”*
*“The plot? Erm, yes. So?”*
*“So, the plot’s worth more than the house!”* Charlotte stood. *“Land here’s gone sky-high! And Mum left it all to you!”*
*“Lottie, what’s your point?”* Emily shook her head. *“What does it matter? We’re sisters!”*
*“Sisters, sisters…”* Charlotte smirked. *“But when we sell, the plot goes too. And you pocket all that money!”*
Emily went quiet, processing this. *“You think I’d cheat you?”*
*“I know you would!”* Charlotte said. *“You never mentioned the plot’s value! Kept it quiet, planning to take it all!”*
*“I didn’t even know it was worth more!”* Emily cried. *“How would I? I’m not an estate agent!”*
*“Didn’t know…”* Charlotte shook her head. *“Could’ve Googled it. Or hired a surveyor.”*
*“Lottie, what’s got into you?”* Emily stood. *“Where’s this coming from? I’d never cheat you!”*
*“Wouldn’They stood there, tear-streaked yet smiling, knowing that no house—no matter how full of memories—was worth losing each other over.
