“You think you’ve got problems, little sister? This isnt your flat.”
My mothers sister never had children, but she owned a lovely three-bedroom flat right in the heart of London and suffered from serious health issues. Her late husband had been a collector, so my aunts home resembled more of a museum than a living space.
My younger sister, Daisy, had a lazy husband and two children. They lived in a cramped rented room in a student dormitory. When Daisy learned about our aunts declining health, she rushed over to complain about her own miserable lot in life.
I should mention straight away that our aunt is a rather sharp-tongued woman who never minces her words and has no qualms about putting someone in their place. For years, shed invited me and my husband to live with her, promising to leave us the flat in her will.
We had our own home and turned down her “generous offer,” though we still brought her groceries and medicine occasionally, and I helped clean her house. We did it out of duty, not for the sake of the property. Yet, just days after visiting, Daisy and her family moved in with our aunt.
My sister and I never got alongshe was always jealous. I had a hardworking, loving husband, a wonderful son, a good job, a decent income, and my own house. Daisy only ever called when she needed to borrow money.
Unfortunately, she had a terrible memory when it came to paying back debts. After I fell pregnant with my second child, I had little time for Auntie, though my husband still dropped off care packages now and then. When my baby was six months old, I went to visit. As I reached the door, I heard shoutingmy sisters voice.
“Until you sign the deed over, youre not getting a scrap of food. Crawl back inside, and dont you dare leave the doghouse tonight!”
I rang the bell. When Daisy saw me, she refused to let me in and snapped, “Dont even think about coming inyoure not getting this flat!”
I only got inside after threatening to call the police. My aunt had aged terribly in the time since Id last seen her, looking a decade older. Tears welled in her eyes when she spotted me.
“Why are you crying? Go on, tell her how well we treat you, and tell her to back off! Look, she didnt even bother bringing the baby!” Daisy screeched.
Aunties room had been stripped bareeven her wardrobe was gone, replaced by piles of belongings on the floor. The collectors items had vanished, and she no longer wore her fine jewellery. It was clear: Daisy and her husband were living off whatever they could sell.
I excused myself to the loo and texted my husband: *We need to save Auntieshe cant stay here.* Returning, I chatted about my life over the past year. When I mentioned my babys birth, I squeezed Aunties hand and whispered, “Just hold on a little longer.” She understood and gave me a grateful look.
Daisy did everything to shove me out, while her husband kept asking if I wasnt overstaying my welcome. Exactly an hour later, my husband arrivedwith a local constable in tow. Daisy stalled at the door. I calmly said my husband had come to fetch me.
The officer was quite the shock for my sister and her husband. I led him to Auntie and said, “Heres your victim. I heard them denying her food. Theyve sold her furniture, jewellery, everything. Her late husband was a collectorthere were priceless items here.”
Amid Daisys wailing, the constable asked, “Do you want to press charges?”
Daisy got off with a light sentence, but her husband spent two years in prison. My mother took her and the children in, despite having thrown her out years earlier. Mum was furious with me for involving the police and swore Id never inherit a thingbut Auntie, in gratitude, left me her flat.
Now, my husband and I visit as we always did, and weve hired a nurse. I cant begin to imagine what she endured living with my sister.
The lesson? Greed twists people into monstersbut kindness, even when unreturned, is never wasted.
