“Get Ready, Mum and Brother Are Coming to Claim Their Share”: You’ve Robbed Your Own Brother, You Have No Shame
I gave up my inheritance share in favour of my father, only for him to gift me his entire flat. His words still echo in my mind: “You’ll understand in time. Just don’t trust them—they’ll lie.” Back then, I didn’t know who he meant, but now it’s all clear.
My name is Emily. I have an aunt, Grace, my mother’s younger sister. She and Mum hadn’t spoken in years—rumours said Grace had pocketed our grandmother’s entire inheritance. I knew I had cousins, Oliver and Charlotte. We played together as children, but over time, we drifted apart. Recently, Charlotte found me on social media and spilled a story that turned my blood cold.
The last few years had been steeped in loss. Three years ago, Mum passed away. Dad held on just long enough for me to finish university in Manchester, then followed her. They’d adored each other—Dad had doted on Mum his whole life, showering her with affection and flowers. I think he simply couldn’t bear living without her.
After Mum’s death, Dad inherited half our flat. I waived my claim, but to my surprise, he transferred full ownership to me. “You’ll understand later,” he’d muttered. “Don’t trust them—they’ll lie.” I pressed him about who “they” were, but he dodged the question.
Six months after his funeral, Charlotte reached out. She reminded me she was Grace’s daughter and said she’d be passing through Manchester soon. “We need to talk—it’s important,” she wrote. I saw no reason to refuse, so I gave her my address and asked her to call ahead.
She arrived a week later, visibly on edge. I met her at the station and brought her back to the flat. Glancing around, she remarked, “Nice place. Pity you’ll have to leave soon.” We sat at the kitchen table, and she dropped the bombshell: Oliver was my half-brother. She didn’t have details but claimed this was why Gran left everything to Grace instead of splitting it between her and Mum.
Charlotte explained that Dad had once courted Grace, but when she fell pregnant with Oliver, he left her and married Mum instead. “Mum and Oliver are coming to claim their share,” she warned. “Be ready.”
I was stunned. Oliver wouldn’t get a penny—the flat was mine, Dad’s savings had always been kept at home (he distrusted banks), and the car was my own purchase. Everything was legally mine. The story about Oliver seemed far-fetched—Dad had worshipped Mum too much for such betrayal. But life holds stranger truths.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Charlotte,” I said flatly. “Let them come, then.”
I made up the guest bed and turned in. Being a light sleeper, I stirred at the sound of rustling that night. Opening my eyes, I saw Charlotte rifling through my desk, her phone flashlight casting eerie shadows.
“Lose something?” I asked.
She jumped, fumbling the phone, which shattered on the floor.
“I—it’s nothing,” she stammered.
“Go to bed, Charlotte. And leave in the morning. I won’t host snoops.”
By dawn, she’d vanished, leaving the front door ajar. A quick check confirmed nothing was missing.
Days later, Grace called, slurring her words. “You brainwashed your dad into signing over the flat, didn’t you?” she screeched. “You’ve robbed your own brother, you heartless girl! He’s married, stuck renting, and it’s all your mother’s fault! If not for her, your father would’ve married me. She ruined everything!”
I hung up. She didn’t call back, but Charlotte kept pestering me to replace her phone, blaming me for its demise.
Grace and Oliver never showed. Likely, Charlotte told them the flat was mine, and there was no fighting it. After dealing with that lot, I understood why Mum had cut ties. Some relatives are worse than strangers.
**Lesson:** Blood doesn’t always mean loyalty—sometimes, it’s just a shared name. Trust actions, not claims.
