Stories

My Sister Kicked Me Out of the House After Our Father’s Death — But She Didn’t Know He Had Foreseen It.

Part 2 of 2

“Yes, Dawn,” he confirmed. “But under one condition—Charlotte must agree to share the house with you equally. If she refuses, she gets absolutely nothing.”

I must have looked stunned because Matthew let out another chuckle.

“And there’s more,” he added. “Your father left you this.”

He handed me a handwritten letter. I recognized the familiar slant of my dad’s handwriting.

Dawn, my sweet girl,

I know Charlotte, sweetheart. I know exactly what she’ll try to do. But you’ve always been the smarter one. The money is in a safety deposit box—use it wisely, my girl.

I love you more than anything.

—Dad

I slipped Dad’s watch off my wrist and flipped it over. Faint but unmistakable, four small numbers were etched into the back.

A code.

Charlotte may have inherited the house, but with it came an avalanche of debt. And now, she had thrown out the one person who could have saved her from financial ruin.

A few days later, while I was still staying at the bed and breakfast, my phone rang. Charlotte’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice syrupy sweet.

“The house,” she blurted, her tone sharp with panic. “It’s drowning in debt—thousands and thousands of dollars…” She exhaled shakily. “You have money, don’t you? You have to help me!”

I smiled to myself. “I would have helped you, Charlotte,” I said evenly. “Maybe if you’d treated me better when we were kids. Then, I might have actually cared.”

And with that, I ended the call.

Matthew was already helping me search for a furnished apartment.

A few weeks later, I settled into my cozy little studio in a vibrant, artsy part of town. It was close to my school and my favorite coffee shop, and I adored it.

As for Charlotte? I never found out what happened to her. But one evening, as I walked past our old house, I noticed a SOLD sign planted in the yard. Maybe I should have felt guilty. But I didn’t. Without my father, that house had never truly been home.

At least, in a way, he was still looking out for me—through Matthew.

If you were in my place, what would you have done?

12

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