When Dad’s lawyer called about the will reading, I’d been elbow-deep in moving boxes, sorting through decades of memories. I couldn’t face the lawyer’s office, so I called my son, Matt, and asked him to attend instead.

“Sure, Mom,” he replied. “Are you sure you don’t need help to sort through Grandad’s things?”

“Thanks, but I’m managing,” I replied. “I’m going to fetch his belongings from the nursing home later today. Why don’t you come by this afternoon and let me know if there’s anything special you want to remember him by, okay?”

I was so certain the will reading would be a clear-cut affair without surprises. How wrong I was.

The nursing home smelled of antiseptic and faintly of wilted flowers, a combination that made my throat tighten. I took a steadying breath as a young nurse handed me Dad’s belongings, neatly packed in a plain, worn cardboard box.

“Here you are, Ma’am,” the nurse said, her voice gentle but distant as if she’d done this a hundred times.

I nodded, murmuring a quiet thank you as I lifted the box.

I brushed my fingers over the sweater, catching a faint scent of his cologne, familiar and fleeting.

The finality hit me when I turned to leave.

Dad was truly gone. I tightened my grip on the box as if holding onto it could somehow keep him with me. When I reached my car, silent tears were slipping down my cheeks.

I sat in the car and cried until my tears ran out. My phone beeped and rang several times, but it was just Matt. He was probably worried about me, but some grief you have to wade through alone.

The wind picked up, scattering the memories I’d so carefully packed into boxes and hauled down from the attic.

Mom’s old recipes, her china, the worn plaid quilt Dad used to nap under, and all his books — it all lay out in the open, unprotected, as if they meant nothing. I stumbled out of my car, heart pounding.

“What in God’s name…” I muttered, my voice swallowed by the wind.

“Oh, good. You’re finally back. I was getting tired of waiting.”

There, perched on my patio furniture with her designer sunglasses and her too-bright lipstick, was Jessica. My daughter-in-law didn’t even glance up from her phone. She took a leisurely sip from her coffee, and her lips curved in a barely restrained smirk.

“Jessica… What is all this?” My eyes swept over the chaos, disbelief clamping down on my chest. “What are you doing?”

She glanced up, lowering her sunglasses just enough for me to see the disdain in her eyes. She waved a manicured hand dismissively.

“I’m doing what’s necessary. This is my home now, after all.”

“Looks like you should’ve attended the will reading.” Jessica held up a crisp piece of paper, and there was my father’s signature, clear as day, at the bottom. “Guess your dad knew who deserved it most, huh?”

I swayed, gripping the car door for support. “That’s impossible. Dad would never—”

“Oh, but he did.” She smirked, casually inspecting her perfect manicure.

“Signed, sealed, delivered. The house is mine now.” She leaned in close, her perfume, a cloying, artificial scent, invading my space. “I think it’s time you moved on, Hattie.”

“What the heck, Jess? First you run out of the lawyer’s office, and now you send me this weird text? What’s going on?” he asked, glancing from me to Jessica, his jaw tight.

She stretched, standing at last, looking smug and at ease in her towering heels. It made my skin crawl. “Like I said, I’m making some necessary changes, honey. And actually, there’s more you should know.”

Matt’s expression hardened with a flash of something I hadn’t seen before. “More than you throwing my mother’s belongings all over the yard?”

The word hung in the air like the final nail in a coffin. Matt’s mouth opened, then closed as he struggled to process. “What? You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.” Her voice was dripping with disdain. “I’ve spent enough years suffocating in this house, being made to feel like I don’t fit in, like I’m not good enough!” She gestured at the house with a sweep of her arm. “I need a fresh start.”

“You have no right—” I started, but she cut me off with a scornful wave.

Matt’s face shifted from bewilderment to anger, his fists clenched. “Everything my family said about you is true,” he said, voice low and trembling. “You really are a covetous witch.”

Jessica’s veneer cracked.

“And you’re a spineless mama’s boy!” she snapped. “Always running to her defense, always putting her first.” She sneered, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at him. “It’s pathetic. You’re just as small-minded as she is.”

“I’ll do whatever I want, Hattie.” Jessica set her hands on her hips, her expression smug. “And there’s nothing either of you can do about it.”

“In fact,” Jessica continued. “The two of you had best hurry and clear your stuff off MY lawn, before I call the cops and have them arrest you both.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Matt yelled.

I numbly looked on as Matt confronted Jessica. None of this made sense! Dad hadn’t even liked Jessica! My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and quickly dialed Dad’s lawyer.

“… really believed I liked you?” Jessica yelled in the background. “You were just a means to an end, a way for me to leave my old neighborhood behind. Now I have the house, I don’t need you anymore!”

“Please,” I whispered to the lawyer. “Tell me she’s lying. There’s no way Dad left his home to Jessica.”

There was a pause, then a warm chuckle.

“A…test?” Relief rushed through me, and I started laughing, tears gathering in my eyes. It was the kind of laugh that came from somewhere deep, a laugh that surprised even me.

Jessica’s face twisted, her confidence faltering. “What are you laughing at?”

“Oh, Jessica,” I managed, still shaking. “You really should have waited for the real will reading.”

“What?”

I let the satisfaction roll through me as I explained. “Dad never left you the house. It was fake — a test to get you to show your true character.”

Jessica’s eyes widened. She glanced between Matt and me as the realization of what she’d done sunk in. Her confident facade crumbled, her voice turning desperate as she scrambled to save face.

“Matt — baby, please.” She reached out, but he recoiled, the finality in his eyes unmistakable.

“I swear, I never meant it!” She pleaded. “I was just…upset, frustrated. You know I love you!”

He shook his head. “Save it. You want a divorce? You’ve got one.”

Matt and I gathered the remnants of my life from the grass, and I couldn’t help thinking that sometimes the real inheritance isn’t in a house — it’s in the lessons of who truly deserves to be in your life.

Dad would have been proud.

Here’s another story: Eight years of marriage shattered in one quick breath when my husband Mike brought home his pregnant sidekick and KICKED ME OUT of the house. I packed alright, but what I unpacked was a revenge plot so brilliant and karmic! Click here to keep reading.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.