**Diary Entry**
*”Brace yourself, Mum and my brother are coming to claim their share”: You’ve cheated your own brother—you’ve got no shame.*
I gave up my share of the inheritance for Dad, but in the end, he left me the 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. Now, it all makes sense.
My name is Emily. I’ve got an aunt, Faith—Mum’s younger sister. They hadn’t spoken in years. Rumour had it Faith kept Grandma’s entire inheritance for herself. I knew I had cousins, Oliver and Charlotte. We played together as children, but we lost touch. Then, out of nowhere, Charlotte found me on social media and told me something that chilled me to the bone.
The last few years have been heavy with loss. Three years ago, Mum passed. Dad held on just long enough to see me graduate in Manchester before he followed her. They adored each other—he spoiled her rotten, always carrying her bags, bringing her flowers. I don’t think he ever truly got over her death.
After Mum was gone, Dad inherited half our flat. I signed my share over to him, and to my surprise, he put the whole place in my name. *”You’ll understand one day,”* he said. *”Just don’t trust them—they’ll lie.”* I pressed him—who were *they*? What lies?—but he wouldn’t say more.
Six months after his funeral, Charlotte 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 harm in it, so I gave her my number and address, asking her to call ahead.
A week later, she arrived. I met her at the station—she looked anxious. I brought her back to the flat, and the moment she stepped inside, she glanced around and said, *”Nice place. Shame you’ll have to leave soon.”* We sat at the kitchen table, and then she dropped the truth: Oliver was my half-brother. She didn’t have all the details, but according to her, that was why Grandma left everything to Faith instead of splitting it between the sisters.
Charlotte claimed Dad had once courted Faith, but when she got pregnant with Oliver, he left her and married Mum. *”Mum and Oliver are coming to contest the inheritance,”* she warned. *”Get ready.”*
I was stunned. Oliver wouldn’t get a penny—the flat was legally mine, Dad’s savings were in the house (he never trusted banks), and the car was mine anyway. Everything Dad had was now mine. The story about Oliver sounded shaky—Dad loved Mum too much to betray her like that. But then again, anything’s possible.
*”Thanks for the heads-up, Charlotte,”* I said. *”Let them come if they want.”*
I made up a bed for her and turned in. I’m a light sleeper, and in the middle of the night, a faint rustling woke me. When I opened my eyes, Charlotte was rummaging through my desk, lighting her way with her phone.
*”Lose something?”* I asked.
She jumped, dropping her phone. It shattered on the floor.
*”I—I wasn’t—”*
*”Go to bed, Charlotte. And leave in the morning. I don’t want guests who rifle through my things.”*
By dawn, she was gone. The front door was left ajar. I checked everything—nothing seemed missing.
Days later, Faith called. She sounded drunk.
*”You tricked your dad into signing the flat over, didn’t you?”* she shrieked. *”You’ve robbed your own brother—you’ve no shame! 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 and didn’t pick up again. She didn’t call back. Charlotte, though, kept ringing, demanding I pay for her broken phone—claiming it was *my* fault.
Faith and Oliver never showed. I suppose Charlotte told them the flat was mine, and there was no fighting it. After dealing with that *family*, I finally understood why Mum kept her distance. Some relatives are worse than strangers.
