After my dad passed, I held on to the house he left me as a way to feel close to him. When my mom, brother, and his wife moved in without really asking, I thought it would be short-term. Instead, they took over completely—and treated me like I didn’t even belong. I kept quiet until they tried to edge me out of my own home. That’s when I made one call that flipped everything on its head.
The hallway clock chimed softly as I brushed my fingers across the photo of Dad on the wall. A full year had passed since we laid him to rest, yet the pain was still fresh, still raw.
“I miss you, Dad,” I murmured, barely louder than the tick of the clock.
My mother walked in and shot me that familiar glance—half pity, half bitterness. It had become her default expression ever since the reading of Dad’s will.
“Katie, enough already. Sitting around feeling sorry won’t bring him back.”
I winced. After Dad lost his battle with cancer, we learned he’d left me nearly everything—ninety percent of his estate, including our century-old family home. Mom and my brother Tyler got ten grand each. I’ll never forget the way Mom’s face twisted with rage that day in the lawyer’s office.
“I’m just remembering,” I said quietly.
She scoffed and disappeared into the kitchen. “Then remember while cleaning. You’re 20 years old and still don’t know how to run a household. This place is filthy.”
I bit my tongue. For months, I let her pretend she was still in charge of the house. It was easier than arguing—until that rainy day in May.
The front door burst open and I heard the rumble of suitcases rolling across the hardwood floors my dad once restored by hand.
“Anyone home?” Tyler’s voice echoed through the house.
I stepped into the entryway and froze. Tyler and his wife Gwen stood there, surrounded by at least eight huge suitcases.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my stomach already sinking.
Tyler grinned and dropped his duffel bag. “Surprise! Our lease is up, and we figured—why waste money on rent when there’s all this space here?”
“You’re moving in?” I asked, confused. “Did Mom even tell you to come here?”
“She didn’t have to tell me—I suggested it,” Mom said, suddenly appearing behind me.
I turned toward her. “You can’t just invite people to stay here. This isn’t your house.”
The room went quiet—tense.
“Excuse me?” Mom said sharply.
“I said this house isn’t yours, Mom. You should’ve asked me first.”
Tyler chuckled while Gwen gave me a smug look. “Come on, Katie. Don’t be dramatic. It’s the family home. And we’re family.”
“You should be happy to have the company,” Gwen added, already climbing the stairs. “Which guest room’s the biggest?”
I stood there, heart racing, realizing in that moment—I was done being silent.