My Stepmother Threatened to Keep My Father’s Inheritance Unless I Buy My Stepsister a House — Story of the Day

“Don’t play dumb.

You’ve been squirreling money away for years, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been working three jobs for ten years to save that. I wanted to open a café. Something of my own.”

“Oh, Hannah, don’t be so selfish,” Chloe piped up.

“You’re the oldest. You should help the family.”

Family. The word tasted like ash in my mouth.

I looked around the living room.

“Then we all live here together. And trust me, we’ll make sure it’s very… uncomfortable for you.”

I swallowed. I had nowhere else to go.

My old apartment was gone. The rent in town was impossible. And I couldn’t pull the deposit from the café — I’d lose everything.

I looked at them and forced my voice steady.

“Staying was the worst choice you could’ve made.”

It was hell.

Every morning, Chloe blasted her music, stomping down and laughing with her friends about “the spinster in the back room.” Lydia cooked only enough for two. She’d smile at me over her shoulder.

But then, Lydia crossed the line.

I came back after a long day in town — job hunting, filling out forms — and I found my room stripped bare.

Boxes everywhere. My clothes were dumped in the yard.

It was raining. My books, my father’s old pictures — soaked through, ruined. Chloe stood at the top of the stairs, chewing gum.

I didn’t say a word.

That night, I sat on the floor, flipping through the back pages of an old address book I’d kept buried in my suitcase.

I found the number. I hadn’t dialed it in years.

Cynthia.

My so-called step-grandmother. Lydia’s mother.

The one person on this earth Lydia hated even more than she hated me.

Cynthia had the right to live there, too. Just to make Lydia’s life extra sweet. I immediately pressed the numbers.

Cynthia picked up on the second ring.

“Cynthia? It’s Hannah. Raymond’s daughter.Continue reading…