“Emily, have you lost the plot? You’ve already got four flats—why on earth do you need another one? Are Mum and I supposed to live on the street?” I shouted at my sister when I found out she wanted to claim our family home for herself. This is the story of how her greed nearly left Mum and me without a roof over our heads—and how I fought to keep our home.
**The Family Flat and Its History**
Our family had always lived in a spacious three-bedroom flat in the heart of London. Mum and Dad got it back in the day when council housing was a thing, and it became our little nest. My sister and I grew up there, and after Dad passed, Mum raised us on her own. The flat’s old but full of character—high ceilings, bay windows, the sort of place that’s seen a lot of life. Mum and I still live there, though truth be told, the wallpaper’s been begging for an update since the 90s.
My older sister, Emily, moved out years ago. She married well—her husband’s some hotshot entrepreneur—and over the years, they’ve built up quite the property portfolio. She’s got four flats already: two rented out, one for their son’s future, and the fourth is their own swanky penthouse. I never resented her success—good for her, honestly. But then she dropped the bomb: she wanted *our* family flat too.
**“It’s My Inheritance”**
It all started during one of her rare visits. Casual chit-chat turned serious when she brought up the flat. “Mum, this place is a nightmare for you—stairs, dodgy lift, no modern heating. Let’s sell it, and I’ll find you and Sophie something more manageable,” she said. I nearly choked on my tea. *Sell it?* “And where exactly are we meant to go?” I asked. Emily just shrugged. “It’s my inheritance too. Legally, it’s shared between us three—Mum, you, and me—and I want my cut.”
I was gobsmacked. First off, Mum’s still very much alive—since when is this an *inheritance*? Second, Emily knows full well Mum and I don’t have another place to go, and her idea of “manageable” probably means a shoebox above a kebab shop. “Emily, you own half of Kensington already—what’s one more flat to you?” I snapped. She waffled on about “property investment” and “market opportunities,” but let’s be real—she just fancied adding another trophy to her collection.
**Mum’s Heartbreak and the Feud**
Mum overheard us arguing and got properly upset. She’s always been fair to us both, but even she had enough. “Emily, have you no shame? This is our *home*,” she said, voice cracking. But Emily just doubled down. “I don’t want a fight, but it’s my right. If we can’t agree, I’ll take legal action.”
I couldn’t believe it. We were never the closest sisters, but this? Cold. I tried reasoning with her—pointed out my teacher’s salary and Mum’s pension wouldn’t exactly cover a new place. Emily just waved me off. “You’ll figure something out.”
**Where Do We Go From Here?**
Now I’m stuck. Taking her to court would drain us financially and emotionally—Mum wouldn’t cope with the stress. But I’ll be damned if we’re pushed out of our own home. I offered to buy her out, but she quoted a price that’d take me a decade to save. Mum’s in tears, saying she’d rather *die* than leave.
I’m at a loss. Do I try talking sense into Emily one more time? Or start preparing for a legal nightmare? If anyone’s been through this—how did you handle it? How do you keep your home without burning every bridge? Honestly, I could use the advice.
