“Get ready, Mum and your brother are coming to divide the inheritance”: You’ve cheated your brother out of everything—you have no conscience.
I gave up my share of the inheritance for my dad’s sake, but in return, he left me the entire flat. His words still echo in my mind: “You’ll understand everything later. Just don’t trust them—they’ll lie.” At the time, I didn’t know who he meant, but now it’s all clear.
My name is Emily. I have an aunt, Faith, my mother’s younger sister. She and Mum didn’t speak—rumour was, Faith took all of our grandmother’s inheritance for herself. I knew I had cousins, Thomas and Charlotte. We played together as children, but we lost touch over the years. Recently, Charlotte found me on social media and told me something that made my blood run cold.
Lately, my life has been filled with loss. Three years ago, my mum passed away. Dad waited until I’d finished university in Manchester, then followed her soon after. They loved each other so deeply—Dad spoiled Mum all his life, carrying her in his arms, bringing her flowers. I don’t think he ever recovered from losing her.
After Mum’s death, Dad inherited half the flat. I gave up my share to him, and to my surprise, he transferred the entire property into my name. “You’ll understand later,” he said. “Don’t trust them—they’ll lie.” I tried pressing him—who were *they*? What lies?—but he shut me down.
Six months after his funeral, Charlotte reached out. She reminded me she was Faith’s daughter and said she’d be passing through Manchester. “We need to meet and talk—properly,” she wrote. “I have important news.” I saw no reason to refuse, gave her my address, and asked her to call ahead.
A week later, Charlotte arrived. I picked her up at the station—she seemed uneasy. When I brought her to the flat, she looked around and said, “Nice place. Shame you’ll have to leave soon.” We sat in the kitchen, and she laid it all out: Thomas is my half-brother. She didn’t know the details, but according to her, that’s why my grandmother left everything to Faith instead of dividing it between her daughters.
Charlotte claimed Dad had been with Faith first, but when she got pregnant with Thomas, he left and married my mum. “Mum and Thomas are coming soon to claim their share,” she warned. “Get ready.”
I was stunned. Thomas wouldn’t get a penny—the flat is in my name, Dad kept his savings at home because he didn’t trust banks, and I paid for my own car. Everything Dad had is mine now. The story about a half-brother seemed unlikely—Dad adored Mum too much for that. But life is full of surprises.
“Thanks for telling me, Charlotte,” I said. “Let them come, then.”
I made up the spare bed for her and went to sleep. I’m a light sleeper, and hours later, a rustling sound woke me. Opening my eyes, I saw Charlotte rummaging through my dresser, her phone flashlight casting a glow.
“Lose something?” I asked.
She flinched—her phone slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.
“I—it was nothing,” she stammered.
“Charlotte, go to bed. And leave tomorrow. I don’t want guests who snoop through my things.”
By morning, she was gone. The front door wasn’t properly shut. I checked everything—nothing seemed missing.
Days later, Aunt Faith called. From her slurred voice, she was drunk.
“You tricked your father into giving you the flat, didn’t you?” she shouted. “Cheated your own brother—no shame at all! He’s married, living in a rented place, all because of your mother! If not for her, your dad would’ve married me. She ruined everything!”
I hung up without listening. She never called back. But Charlotte kept ringing, demanding I replace her broken phone—claiming it was my fault.
Faith and Thomas never came. Probably because Charlotte told them the flat’s in my name, and there’s nothing they can do. After dealing with these so-called *relatives*, I understand why Mum kept her distance. Some family are worse than strangers.
