I thought my father’s will would secure my future. But when the lawyer read a name I didn’t recognize—Brenna, my father’s other daughter—everything changed. My grandmother, Loretta, was furious. Who was Brenna, and why did my father leave her everything?
Loretta raised me after my mother’s death, shaping my life with rules and expectations. When my father passed, she took charge, planning how we’d rebuild the family legacy. But at the lawyer’s office, everything crumbled.
“As per your father’s wishes, his estate goes to Brenna,” the lawyer said.
“Who?” I gasped. Loretta was outraged. “My son couldn’t leave everything to some stranger!”
But the will was clear. Brenna inherited it all. Confused and shocked, I went to meet her.
Brenna’s house was small and mismatched, but she welcomed me with warmth. She didn’t seem bitter, just curious. “What’s it like, having a dad?” she asked.
Over the next week, I stayed with her, living a life so different from my own. No rules, just simplicity. She showed me pottery, nature, and a slower pace. But as I relaxed, Loretta’s calls grew more frequent, demanding I convince Brenna to sign the inheritance over.
Then, Loretta showed up, furious. She accused Brenna’s mother of trapping my father, but when I found old letters from her mother, Loretta’s cruelty was revealed. My father had found out about Brenna and changed his will, but Loretta had kept the truth hidden.
In that moment, I realized the “gift” my father left wasn’t about money—it was about family. I chose Brenna over Loretta, and we began to build a life together, growing her pottery studio and making the house our own.
For the first time, I wasn’t living to meet someone else’s expectations. I was living for us.
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