After our mother's death, my sister, Sharon, inherited everything, leaving me with nothing. But upon discovering Mom's actual will, I was left wondering: what else didn't I know about my sister?
The news of my mother's passing hit me like a ton of bricks. There I was, miles away from my hometown, immersed in my career as a real estate developer in the bustling city, when the call came through.
The distance suddenly felt insurmountable, and the regrets of all the unsaid things weighed heavily on my heart. My relationship with my mom had always been strong, yet my visits home became scarce after I started my career.
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She had my sister, Sharon, for company, but it wasn't the same. My little sister was still trying to carve out her path in life, shuttling between waitressing jobs without much luck.
When she relayed the contents of our mother's will to me, stating that everything was left to her, I was initially taken aback.
But after some reflection, it made sense. I had been gone for so long, and Sharon had been there with her. Besides, my financial situation was far more stable than Sharon's, so I understood our mother's decision.
The will detailed that Sharon would inherit not only the family home but all of Mom's assets. Despite my initial shock, I accepted this decision and communicated my peace with it to her, though she seemed indifferent to my feelings.
Later, a real estate friend from our hometown mentioned that our family home was on the market, slated for demolition to capitalize on the land value. I was devastated. That house was more than just bricks and mortar to us; it held our family's memories and our shared history.
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I couldn't fathom Sharon's decision to demolish it. Reminding myself that the house was now Sharon's to do with as she pleased didn't ease the pain. Nevertheless, I resolved to save the property.
Without hesitating, I approached my sister with an offer for the house, one she couldn't turn down. Her eagerness to sell confirmed my suspicions about her priorities. Within a week, we closed the deal.
Now, owning the house brought a mix of emotions. The state of disrepair it had fallen into was shocking, so different from the warmth and love it once held. Determined, I decided to take on the renovations myself, hiring a crew to handle the things I couldn't.
It was a way to honor my mother and salvage what remained of our shared past. The renovation process was challenging, but nothing prepared me for what we discovered hidden beneath the floorboards of my mother's bedroom.
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A document, weathered by time, revealed itself to be my mother's original will, stating that the property was to be divided equally between my sister and me. The sight of several forged copies alongside it sent me reeling.
So, I reached out to my mother's lawyer for answers.
"Hi, sir. This is Eric, Gina's son. I've found my mother's original will, along with some forged copies, in the house. Can you explain what's happening?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.
The response on the other end was surprised and confused. I felt my eyes bulging as the lawyer told me there was only ever one will to be kept in my mother's home.
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It quickly became clear that Sharon had orchestrated a deception, presenting a forged will, designed by another attorney perhaps, to claim everything for herself.
I had to face her and ask for the truth. We met under the guise of discussing a business proposal related to the house. But as soon as she arrived, I laid the documents before her, the evidence of her deceit plain to see.
"What's this?" she asked, shocked as she went through the forged will and the original.
"You tell me," I replied.
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Her reaction was defensive, the veins on her neck thickening and redness overtaking her cheeks. "Typical Eric! I don't know what Mom saw in you!" she accused.
"So, you did this?" I asked, remaining calm.
"You always had everything. Mom's love and support," she shouted, diverting the question. "I was always the problem child."
"You were rebellious," I continued. "But Mom loved you the same. She supported you, too."
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"No! She bragged about you and your career and success," Sharon insisted, angry tears gathering in her eyes. "I had nothing after I was arrested."
"For theft," I chimed in.
"Yes! I made a mistake, but it cost me everything," she continued, sniffing. "I lost my chance at college. I lost everything!"
I exhaled loudly, shaking my head. My sister had made many mistakes and was punished for them but never sought redemption. She thought the world or the universe owed her something.
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Hell, perhaps she thought Mom and I owed her, too. But it wasn't our job to fix her life. Our mother was kind enough to offer her a home forever and split her life savings between us. Moreover, I would've given her more if she had asked.
But she always preferred the easy route. "What are we going to do about this?" I asked her, crossing my arms.
"What do you mean?" she sniffed, wiping her tears. "What's done is done! I don't have to answer to you!"
Sharon stormed away from me, and I sighed once again. Sorry, sis. I just couldn't let it go. I called my mother's lawyer and instigated a lawsuit against her.
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After being served, my sister got too scared. She was forced to relinquish what she had wrongfully taken to make me drop the suit. The victory was bittersweet. While I was relieved that the house and other assets were safe, the rift Sharon's actions had caused between us was a loss in itself.
But preserving my mother's memory and our childhood home was more important than maintaining a loving sibling relationship that clearly only existed in my mind.
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