When Relatives Come Knocking: A Tale of an Inheritance That Won’t Be Split Three Ways
Oliver walked into the room where his wife, Emily, was watching a TV series and calmly said:
“David just called. He and Sophie want to come over on Saturday. Said we need to talk.”
“Lovely! You know I’m always happy to have guests,” Emily smiled.
“Thing is, he mentioned it’s serious,” Oliver replied, giving her a wary look. “Just the two of us—no spouses.”
“Any idea what it’s about?” Emily tensed.
Oliver hesitated, looked down… and then it hit him. The inheritance.
Two months ago, Oliver and Emily had officially become heirs. Aunt Margaret, their mother’s elder sister, had never married or had children, living her life as an independent, strong-willed woman. When her health began failing, she turned to her nephews for help. Only Oliver and Emily stepped up—taking her to doctors, buying groceries, paying for a carer, even arranging a stay at a seaside retreat. The rest of the family? A birthday card now and then, if that.
No surprise, then, that Aunt Margaret left everything to them: a two-bed flat in central London and a cosy cottage in the Cotswolds.
Saturday arrived. Sophie and David showed up right on time—no smiles, no small talk. They sat in the living room and got straight to it.
“Fine, the flat’s yours. But the cottage? That’s taking the mickey,” David started.
“We looked after it!” Sophie chimed in. “Mowed the lawn, watered the flowerbeds. We spent every summer there with the kids.”
“Did you ever take Aunt Margaret with you?” Emily asked evenly. “Even once? She begged you to take her—just to get some fresh air…”
“We were busy. The kids, work…” Sophie muttered.
“Exactly. So Aunt Margaret made her choice,” Oliver said quietly.
“You manipulated her!” David snapped. “What kind of man keeps everything from his own family?”
“And what kind of man fights over a crumbling shack?” Oliver shot back, cool but firm.
They left in a huff. But the next morning, the phone rang.
“Oliver, did you change the locks on the cottage?” David shouted. “We came to get our stuff, and we can’t even get in!”
“I did. Because you didn’t ask. Come next Saturday—we’ll clear it out. Take what’s yours,” Oliver replied before hanging up.
“You called it,” he said, turning to Emily.
“You know your family. If you hadn’t changed the locks, they’d have taken the furniture too. Trust me.”
A month later, they sold both the cottage and their own three-bed flat. They bought a spacious seaside apartment in Brighton—quiet neighbourhood, good schools, jobs sorted quickly. Oliver landed work at the docks; Emily started teaching primary school.
Their daughter, Isabella, stayed in Aunt Margaret’s flat while finishing university.
Life seemed settled. But by March, the phone wouldn’t stop ringing.
“The cottage is gone,” Sophie said over the phone. “So we’re all coming to yours. First week of July. And we’re bringing little Charlie too!”
“Book a hotel,” Oliver replied flatly. “We live here—it’s not a holiday home. And we’re not expecting guests.”
“But your in-laws stayed with you last September!” Sophie protested.
“Because they’re Emily’s parents. Ours would’ve been welcome too, if they were still here. But we’re not hosting your entire brood.”
“You’re selfish!” she snapped. “Remember this when you need help—and there’s no family left!”
“Funny, this past year, we’ve had more ‘family’ than mushrooms after rain. All between May and September. Don’t worry—we’ve got plenty to spare,” Oliver said with a dry laugh.
Then he hung up.
