**The Inheritance**
The old, spacious flat buzzed with unusual activity. The doorbell jangled again and again as relatives filed in. This time, a stout man in an expensive suit entered, the jacket straining over his bulging stomach.
A pale, plain woman gave him a sour smile, while another man rose from the sofa to greet him.
“Stephen! Didn’t think you’d make it.” The two shook hands. “Sit down, tell us how life’s treating you.”
The woman huffed and shuffled to the far end of the sofa, making room for the brothers.
*Is that really David’s wife? After all the girls he’s been with, he ends up with someone like this…* Stephen couldn’t even find the words.
The bell rang once more. All three turned toward the door. The last person they were waiting for had finally arrived. A tall man in black trousers and a navy-blue jumper stepped inside, the crisp white shirt beneath accentuating his neat appearance.
Benjamin gave a curt nod, glanced around, and settled into a worn armchair in the opposite corner.
*Look at Benjamin, all posh now.* Stephen recognised him instantly, though they hadn’t met in thirty years.
And so, the three brothers—three heirs—were together again. Circling like vultures over carrion. Stephen had hoped no one else would show, least of all Benjamin.
They’d all received the same invitation: *Come and bid farewell to Aunt Margaret.* As if anyone would forget the address.
Stephen had long since built his own life in another city—a solid job, a house, a car, two daughters (one already a grandmother herself). He didn’t need his aunt’s inheritance. He’d come out of curiosity.
The flat used to seem enormous to him. He’d been afraid of its dark corners, the towering grandfather clock, the bulky furniture.
When their father fell from scaffolding at a construction site and died, their mother withered from grief. How could she raise three boys alone? The youngest, David, hadn’t even turned five. Life was hard. Then one day, their mother’s older brother—a man they’d never even heard of—arrived and offered to take the boys, at least the two eldest.
He and his wife had no children of their own. Their mother would recover, he said, and come for them later. He gave her some money and left with the boys. Their mother drowned her sorrows in drink and soon passed.
Aunt Margaret turned out to be strict and cold. She fed them, clothed them, tried to love them. Stephen, the eldest, quickly realised this was his ticket to a better life and did everything to please his uncle and aunt.
Benjamin, the middle brother, stayed withdrawn, refusing to bond with his new family. After school, unlike Stephen, he didn’t go to university. Instead, he returned to his hometown, moved into their parents’ old flat, found work, and studied remotely. Their uncle sent him money at first, but Benjamin sent it back with a note: *I don’t need it.*
In his final year of university, Stephen married and moved to his wife’s family in Manchester. David, the youngest, grew up wild, living recklessly. Every family has its black sheep.
*The flat needs renovating. Could sell for a good price. And this furniture—solid, antique. Proper vintage. The Bohemian crystal in the cabinet. And there must be money in savings… unless it all burnt up in the nineties.* Stephen caught himself daydreaming at the wrong moment.
Glancing at Benjamin again, he noted how indifferent he looked, legs stretched and crossed. David and his wife whispered together, occasionally eyeing their brothers. *Benjamin’s an outcast, never in Aunt Margaret’s good graces. David will squander his share…* Stephen decided he was the only one truly deserving of the inheritance.
A pretty young woman had let them in—likely Aunt Margaret’s carer. Just as Stephen thought of her, a wheelchair rolled into the room, carrying a frail old woman. Her head drooped, a thick blanket draped over her legs.
The carer positioned the chair so she could see everyone. Against the old woman’s frailty, the girl looked even lovelier. The brothers were stunned—they hadn’t expected their aunt to be alive.
Stephen tried to calculate her age. Surely over eighty. So why had he assumed she was dead? The telegram had only said, *Come and bid farewell to Margaret Eleanor.* That’s why he’d thought…
With morbid curiosity, he studied her—wrinkled face, liver spots, wild grey hair sticking out. Arthritic hands, veins bulging, rested on the armrests. He barely recognised the once-proud, elegant woman. Time had not been kind.
“Margaret’s pleased to see you all,” the girl chirped.
“At her request, I tracked you down. Apologies if the telegram was misunderstood. She wanted to settle matters in person—avoid disputes later.”
“So we’ll have a say?” Stephen perked up.
“Not exactly. Tea, anyone?” She turned to David’s wife.
“And you are?” Stephen cut in.
“This is Lucy, my granddaughter,” Margaret rasped.
Stephen gaped, then shot Benjamin a look. The man sat unreadable. David, however, shifted uncomfortably.
*David’s daughter? Another heir. That’s inconvenient. We’d need proof.* His eyes bored into Lucy’s back.
Once alone with their aunt, the atmosphere thickened.
“Thank you for coming,” she wheezed. “Thought I was dead, didn’t you? Not here for me—for the money. Well, you’ll each get what you deserve. Just don’t squabble at my grave if the will displeases you.”
“Is there even enough to fight over?” Stephen pressed.
“You’ve changed. Benjamin… you never liked me, but I’m glad you came. And David—still as reckless as ever.”
“I may be old, but I’m sharp.” Her head drooped, eyes closing.
Stephen thought she’d dozed off. The brothers exchanged uneasy glances.
Soon, Lucy returned to call them for tea. David bolted for the kitchen, relief plain on his face. Benjamin and Stephen stayed put.
“Still not reconciled?” Margaret asked suddenly.
“Never got around to it,” Stephen answered for both.
“You’ve put on weight—that jacket won’t last long. Living well, then? Why didn’t you bring your wife?”
“Too busy—she’s a headmistress,” Stephen boasted. “Two daughters, both married. One’s even made me a grandfather.”
“Brothers should stick together. You’re all I have left—well, and Lucy. The flat goes to her. Don’t look at me like that, Stephen. She’s cared for me ten years. I’m alive because of her. And you? Not one birthday card, not one visit. I tried to be a mother to you. Benjamin, fine—but you, Stephen?”
He floundered for an excuse.
“There’s still the cottage. Good land. Remember how much you loved it, Benjamin? And the old ’78 Rolls in the garage. They don’t make them like that anymore. Still runs.”
“No one leaves empty-handed.” Her yellowed teeth bared in a grin. The sight sent shivers down Stephen’s spine. *How is she still alive? Still has her own teeth. Witch.*
“Lucy!” The girl appeared instantly.
“I’m tired. Bed.”
Only then did Stephen notice the clock—nearly ten at night. It felt like mere hours since he’d arrived. Time had slipped away.
Lucy wheeled Margaret out, leaving the brothers in silence.
“I thought she was dead,” Stephen muttered. Benjamin said nothing.
“She announced the will—now she *has* to die, right?” His joke fell flat.
Lucy returned to assign rooms. David claimed he’d booked a hotel and left.
Stephen lay awake, hearing whispers, footsteps. Once, he even checked the hall—empty, dark, drafty. Dawn crept in before he slept.
Morning brought eerie silence. “Just nerves. Shouldn’t have come.” He grimaced at yesterday’s shirt—no choice but to wear it again.
The kitchen was set for breakfast, coffee hot. His stomach growled.
*Did Lucy do this? She’s not bad… Too young for me, though. And married.*
Midway through his second cup, the bell rang. A short, plump doctor in a white coat entered, Lucy trailing behind.
“Margaret all right?” Stephen’s question went ignored.
He followed, but Lucy blocked him at the bedroom door.
“You can’t go in.”
Searching for David, he found his room empty.
The doctor met him in the hall.
“She passed last night.”
“From what?”
“Old age.”
Lucy intervened, tearful. “She didn’t want the morgue. Dr. Wilkins will handle everything. Funeral’s tomorrow.”
Stephen’s voice rose. “You’re keeping her *here*? That’s—”
“If it bothers you, check into a hotel.”
“Gladly.”
He moved out immediately.
At the funeral, David and his wife watched with detached curiosity. Benjamin,The Rolls Royce roared to life as Stephen drove away, already counting the value of the jewels in his pocket, while Benjamin stood at the cottage gate, watching Lucy approach with hesitant steps, and neither of them noticed the faint glimmer of the sapphire ring on her finger—the one Margaret had whispered about in her final breath.
