“Attention, Mum and your brother are coming to claim their share of the inheritanceyouve robbed him, youve got no conscience!”
“Get ready, Mum and your brother are on their way for the inheritanceyouve cheated him, you heartless thing!”
Id given up my share of the inheritance for my father, only for him to leave me his entire flat. His words still echo in my mind: “Youll understand one day. Just dont trust themtheyll lie.” Back then, I hadnt a clue who “they” were, but now, its all crystal clear.
My names Emily. Ive got an aunt, BeatriceMums younger sister. They hadnt spoken in yearsrumour had it Beatrice swiped Grandmas inheritance. I knew I had cousins, Oliver and Charlotte. We played together as kids, then drifted apart. Recently, Charlotte tracked me down on social media and spilled secrets that turned my blood to ice.
The last few years have been nothing but grief. Mum passed three years ago. Dad held on just long enough for me to finish uni in Manchester, then followed her. They were mad about each otherhe doted on her, brought her flowers, sang her praises. I dont think he ever got over losing her.
After Mum died, Dad inherited half the flat. I signed my share over to him, only for him to leave the whole lot to me. “Youll see why later,” hed said. “Dont trust them.” I tried pressing himwho were “they”? What lies?but he dodged every question.
Six months after his funeral, Charlotte messaged me. Reminded me she was Beatrices daughter and announced shed be stopping by Manchester. “We need to talk,” she wrote. “Big news.” No reason to refuse, so I gave her my address and number, insisting she warn me before turning up.
Charlotte arrived a week later. I met her at the stationshe was jumpy. Stepping into the flat, she muttered, “Nice place. Shame youll have to leave soon.” In the kitchen, she unloaded everything: Oliver was my half-brother. She didnt have details, but reckoned thats why Grandma left everything to Beatrice instead of splitting it.
Charlotte claimed Dad had been with Beatrice first, dumped her when she got pregnant, then married Mum. “Mum and Oliver are coming for their cut,” she warned. “Brace yourself.”
I was floored. Oliver wouldnt get a pennythe flat was mine, Dads savings (stashed at home, thanks to his distrust of banks), and the car Id bought myself. Everything hed owned was now mine. The half-brother story seemed absurdDad adored Mum too much for that. But lifes full of plot twists.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Charlotte,” I said. “Let them come if they daretheyll leave with nothing but their lies.”
And so I steeled myself for battle, knowing the truthas it always doeswould win in the end.
