I dedicated everything to caring for my mother in her final days, giving up my own life to be there for her. Yet when the will was read, I was left with nothing. The betrayal cut deep—but soon, hidden truths began to surface, shifting everything I thought I knew about my family and myself.
The grief was still raw as I drove toward my late mother’s house. Her funeral had only been a week ago, leaving me to handle the tough decisions, just as I had throughout her illness.
I had always been the dependable one—the daughter who everyone leaned on. I bathed Mom, fed her, kept her finances in check, and never once left her side when she couldn’t be alone. Naturally, I thought the house would be mine. I had given everything for it. But when the will was read, I found it had been left to Phoebe, my younger sister.
Phoebe and I had always been distant. She was unpredictable, fragile in ways life didn’t seem to heal. Our relationship had always been strained, but still, I couldn’t help but worry about her.
In the passenger seat beside me was my husband, Dan, silent, his breath faintly smelling of alcohol, despite his promises to quit. My patience was wearing thin, and I was exhausted.
When we arrived at Mom’s house, the lawyer I’d hired was waiting outside. “Why aren’t you inside?” I asked.
“It’s locked,” he said simply.
“Phoebe promised to be here early with the keys,” I muttered, dialing her number. It went straight to voicemail.
Dan let out an irritated sigh. “Typical Phoebe. She’s a mess.”
“She’ll be here,” I snapped, glaring at him.
Finally, Phoebe appeared, looking disheveled, mascara smeared under her eyes. “Rough night?” I asked, arms crossed.
She gave a half-hearted shrug. “Is it obvious?”
“Get it together,” I said, motioning toward the lawyer. “We’re waiting.”
Phoebe scoffed. “Why bother? You’re getting the house. You’re the perfect daughter, right?”
I bit my tongue, knowing how much her mother’s death had affected her. Everyone always said Phoebe was Mom’s favorite—sensitive, emotional, fragile.
Inside, the lawyer began reading Mom’s will. The words were a blur until I heard, “The house and all assets go to Phoebe.”
“What?” I gasped. “What do you mean it goes to Phoebe?”
“I’m just reading what’s written,” he said, offering no comfort.
Dan lost it. “This isn’t fair! Katherine took care of her, not Phoebe!”
Phoebe’s face crumbled, and she fled outside. I shot Dan a furious look. “Dan, enough.”
Frustrated, I followed Phoebe to the backyard, where Mom had always sat. Phoebe was slumped on the bench, defeated.
“I’m sorry about Dan,” I said, sitting next to her.
“He’s always like that,” Phoebe mumbled. “You deserve better.”
“He’s my husband,” I sighed. “But listen… sell me the house.”
She stared at me, bewildered. “What?”
“You need the money for your flower shop,” I said firmly. “I’ll tear it down, build something new. Mom should’ve left it to me anyway—”
“No,” Phoebe interrupted sharply.
“You don’t deserve it!” I snapped, anger rising. “I was the one who cared for her day and night! But she still chose you because you were always her favorite.”
Phoebe stood up suddenly, tears brimming in her eyes. “You have everything, Katherine! A husband—even if he’s terrible—a good job, a million opportunities. You even got that job abroad. You have choices! All I have is this house!”
“Do you know why I didn’t take that job?” I shouted back. “Because I worried about leaving you! You can’t handle life on your own!”
“Get out!” Phoebe screamed. “I’m not giving you the house!”
“Then I’ll take it!” I yelled, storming off.
I wanted to move past the argument, but Dan wouldn’t let it go. He kept pressuring me to contest the will. Legal battles followed—endless meetings, paperwork, and bitter exchanges with Phoebe, who remained distant, detached. Then, just days before the court date, I found unpaid bills and debt notices scattered across Dan’s desk. Shocked, I confronted him immediately.
“What’s all this?” I demanded, holding up the papers.
Dan went pale. “It’s just a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” I fumed. “You’re drowning in debt! Is this why you pushed me to fight Phoebe? You wanted the house to cover your mess?”
His frustration spilled over. “Phoebe doesn’t deserve it! You practically raised Mom! She did nothing but cause trouble!”
“Phoebe couldn’t handle seeing Mom sick!” I yelled. “Where did all this debt come from, Dan?”
He slumped, defeated. “Gambling,” he admitted quietly. “But selling the house could fix everything. I’ll stop, I promise.”
“Like you stopped drinking?” My voice was frigid. He had no answer.
Disgusted, I left and drove straight to Mom’s house, ringing the doorbell urgently. Phoebe opened the door, irritation written on her face. “Here to change my mind again?”
“No,” I said, stepping inside. “Dan gambled away a fortune.”
Her irritation melted into surprise. She led me to the backyard bench, where we sat in silence for a long time.
Finally, she spoke. “We can sell the house and split the money.”
“No,” I replied firmly. “Mom gave it to you. It’s yours.”
“You threatened to take it,” Phoebe reminded me gently.
“I was angry, emotional. Dan pushed me into contesting it. Now I see why.”
“You’re not paying his debts, are you?” Phoebe asked cautiously.
“Never,” I said. “You’re the only one I’d sacrifice anything for.”
Phoebe lowered her head, then spoke softly, “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I always felt like I was in your shadow—Katherine’s perfect, Katherine has it all. I was just the odd one who made jokes.”
I smiled sadly. “You were exactly like Mom. She loved you more. I always felt overshadowed by that.”
Phoebe chuckled softly. “Mom should’ve gotten parenting lessons before having kids.”
We both laughed, the tension between us finally lifting.
“So, what now?” Phoebe asked.
“I’m leaving Dan,” I said decisively. “I’m taking that job abroad, and I’m investing in your flower shop.”
Phoebe’s expression softened. “Katherine, I’ll be fine. And you—you’ll be fine too.”
I nodded, pulling her into a tight hug, finally at peace.
