Harriet found a sealed envelope tucked among her father’s papers a will that left everything to a woman she didn’t know.
Did you forget to take your pills again? How many times do I have to remind you, Dad? Harriet slammed a glass of water onto the nightstand.
Dont shout, love, my heads pounding, her father said, waving a weak hand. Ill take them right now.
Right now! You say that every day, yet I keep finding the bottle untouched in the cupboard!
Andrew Smith, seventy, reached for the blister pack with a guilty sigh. He looked older than his years; a stroke six months ago had left him still in recovery.
Harriet, dont berate your father, their brother George entered the room with a bag of groceries. Hes trying his best.
Trying? If he were trying, hed be well by now!
Andrew swallowed his medication and leaned back on the pillow. Harriet adjusted his blanket, still frowning.
Dad, you promised to show me where the flats papers are. I need them for a council benefit application.
For what benefit?
For the housing support. I told you.
Ah, right. Theyre in the desk, left-hand drawer, blue folder.
Harriet stepped into the hallway and opened the old oak desk. After their father fell ill, she and George had decided to sort his documents, just in case. She pulled out the blue folder; inside were the title deed, a technical register, and some old receipts. Flipping through, she saw a plain white envelope labeled Will.
Her heart clenched. The will. Their father had written one and never mentioned it.
Trembling, Harriet slit the envelope. Inside were several sheets stamped by a solicitor. She began to read.
I, Andrew Smith, being of sound mind, bequeath all my assets, namely the flat at 12 Willow Street, to
She skimmed ahead and stopped.
Eleanor Gray, residing at 7 Oak Grove.
She read the line again, slowly. Eleanor Gray. A strangers name.
George, she called, trying to keep her voice steady. Come here.
George emerged from the kitchen, a mug of tea in hand.
Whats wrong?
Harriet handed him the will. He read it, his face paling.
This is nonsense, he muttered. Whos Eleanor Gray?
I have no idea, Harriet whispered. Shes a complete stranger.
They stood in the corridor, exchanging uneasy looks, when a voice floated from the bedroom.
Harriet, have you found the documents?
Harriet slipped the will back into the envelope and entered the room, George following.
Dad, whats this? she asked, holding up the papers.
Andrew stared at the pages, his expression shifting from surprise to bewilderment.
Where did you get that?
From the desk, with the flats papers.
Its a personal matter.
Personal matter? You left the flat to some unknown woman! Are we not your children?
Stay calm, love
I cant calm down! Who is Eleanor Gray? Why didnt you tell us?
Andrew closed his eyes.
Its a complicated story.
Then try to explain! George sat on the edge of the bed. We have a right to know.
After a long pause, Andrew sighed heavily.
Eleanor Eleanor Sergeyevna shes my daughter.
Silence settled over the room. Harriet felt the floor slip beneath her.
Your daughter? she repeated, stunned. How could that be?
I had a brief affair, long before your mother. Eleanor was born when I was twenty. I didnt learn about her until much later.
Wait, so we have a sister we never knew about? George asked, rubbing his face.
Yes.
And you left the flat to her? Harriet asked, hurt rising.
Yes.
And us?
Andrew opened his eyes.
Youre both grown, have your own homes and jobs. Eleanor has lived a hard life. Her mother died when she was fifteen, leaving her alone.
Did you support her? Harriet asked.
Yes, as best I could. I sent money and food, but not the way Id hoped.
Did Mom know?
No. I didnt want to hurt her.
Harriet sank into a chair, her mind a whirl of emotions. She now had a sister, an unknown sister, to whom their father had left everything.
Dad, do you keep in touch with her? George asked.
Yes. She comes by sometimes when youre not here.
Harriet couldnt hold back the sarcasm. Convenient, hidden daughter, secret visits.
I never meant to hurt you, Andrew said quietly.
But you did, Harriet snapped. The worst part isnt that you have another child. Its that you kept it from us. Were a family!
I was scared
Scared of what? That we wouldnt understand? That Mom would leave?
Your mother passed away a year ago, he replied softly. Cancer, quick and merciless.
So you could have told us then, Harriet said coldly.
I wanted to, I was looking for the right moment. After the stroke, everything became muddled.
George, we need to meet her, Harriet said firmly.
Andrews face tightened.
Im not sure she knows about the will.
Are you sure? Harriet pressed.
Positive. She thinks I live in a rented flat.
Harriet glanced at George.
We have to see her for ourselves.
Please, dont Andrew began, but Harriet cut him off.
Give me her number.
Reluctantly, he handed over a scribbled phone number. Harriet saved it and left the room.
In the kitchen, George watched her.
Are you really going to call her? he asked.
I have to know the truth.
Maybe shes not what we think.
Better than living with doubt.
Later that evening, after the house was quiet and Andrew was asleep, Harriet dialed.
Hello? a woman’s voice answered.
Good evening, is this Eleanor Gray?
Yes. Who is this?
My name is Harriet Smith. Im Andrews daughter.
A pause.
Harriet? How do you know about me?
I found a will. It says the flat is yours.
I my father never mentioned you. He wanted us not to know.
We can meet.
Okay. Tomorrow at three?
Where?
At the Old Town café on London Road, you know the one?
Yes, Ill be there.
Harriet hung up, staring out the kitchen window. Tomorrow she would finally see the sister she never knew she had.
The next morning she told George about the plan.
Ill come too, he said. Im nervous youll be rude.
What if she isnt who we expect? Harriet wondered aloud.
Maybe shes here just for the money, George warned.
They arrived at the café fifteen minutes early, choosing a table by the window. Harriet fidgeted with a napkin, her heart racing.
At three oclock the door opened. A woman in her midforties, petite, wearing a plain grey coat, entered. Her hair was pulled back, her makeup minimal. She scanned the room, then spotted Harriet and George and gave a small, hesitant wave.
Eleanor approached, hands trembling.
Hello, she said softly.
Please, have a seat, George offered.
Eleanor sat, eyes flickering between the siblings.
You look a lot like my father, she said, studying Harriets face. Especially the eyes.
You too, Harriet replied, noting the similar jawline.
My mother, Olga, was with Andrew when we were both twenty. She got pregnant, he panicked and left. She raised me alone.
And then? Harriet prompted.
When I was fifteen my mother fell ill with cancer. Before she died she tried to find my father, eventually reaching him through a friend. She begged him to look after me.
He did? Harriet asked.
Yes. He visited occasionally, brought money and food. After she died he helped me get a room in a college hall and paid for my studies.
Was he married? George interjected.
Yes, to your mother. He asked me never to tell anyone about my existence; he said it would ruin his family.
And you kept silent? Eleanor nodded.
Exactly. I was grateful for his help, but I never asked for anything.
Harriet felt a surge of pity mixed with lingering resentment.
Do you still see him? she asked.
Yes, on Thursdays, when youre not home.
Why Thursdays? George asked.
Its the only day I can sneak in without being noticed.
Harriet recalled her own Thursday work schedule, confirming Eleanors visits.
Do you know about the will? she asked directly.
Eleanors brow furrowed. No. What will?
The one that leaves the flat to you.
Eleanors face went pale. That cant be true. I never asked for it.
Im sure you didnt, Harriet said gently. But my father wrote it.
Eleanor covered her face with her hands, voice shaking. I dont want the flat. I just want my father to be healthy.
We all want that, George said.
Why did you keep this a secret? Harriet pressed.
Because I was afraid hed lose everything if the truth came out. I never wanted to be a burden.
The conversation lingered, moving from past hardships to present hopes. Eleanor explained she rented a small room and worked as a nursery assistant, barely making ends meet.
Honestly, I always envied you, she admitted. You had photos of a happy family, a stable home.
We never knew about you, George said. If we had, maybe things would have been different.
When they finally stood to leave, Harriet reached out and embraced Eleanor.
Come over on Sunday. Meet our father properly, with us all together.
Eleanors eyes filled with tears. Really?
Yes, truly.
That night Harriet returned to her fathers bedside.
Dad, why did you leave the flat to her? she asked.
Andrew stared at the ceiling.
Because I owe her a debt. I abandoned her mother, I never recognized my daughter. The flat is the smallest thing I can do to make amends.
What about us? Harriet pressed.
You have your own homes, your own lives. She has lived in a rented room all her life.
You could have helped her with money instead, George suggested.
I did, as best I could, but I feared that after Im gone, who would look after her?
Harriet placed a hand on his. Well look after her. Together.
Andrews eyes softened. Im sorry for the years of silence.
The following Sunday the three siblings gathered around a modest kitchen table, joined by Eleanor, their father, and the rest of the family. Andrew stood, his voice trembling.
Everyone, this is Eleanor, my daughter. I have always loved you both, and I hope we can all move forward as one family.
Laughter broke the tension, and a toast was raised.
Heres to new beginnings, Harriet declared.
Months later, Andrew revised his will, dividing the flat equally among Harriet, George, and Eleanor. He explained that fairness, not favoritism, was the true intention.
At the housewarming for Eleanors new share, Andrew looked around at his children, old and newly discovered, and said quietly, Happiness isnt measured in bricks or pounds. Its measured in the people who stand beside you.
Harriet smiled, realizing that the secret had threatened to split the family, yet honesty had woven them tighter.
The lesson lingered: families thrive when truth is embraced, forgiveness is offered, and love is extended beyond bloodlines.
