Before our dad passed away, it was just the three of us living in his house — my dad, my older sister Charlotte (35), and me. But to be honest, she was barely ever home. She never really acted like part of the family. The house was more of a pit stop for her than a home.
Two weeks ago, my father passed away. We were incredibly close — unlike Charlotte, who always kept her distance.
Then came the reading of the will.
At the lawyer’s office, we learned that my father had left the entire house to Charlotte. And me? He left me his old watch.
I almost broke down when I held it. It felt like holding a piece of him.
For a few days, we still lived under the same roof — until, out of nowhere, Charlotte looked at me and said:
“This is it. Our paths split here. I need you to leave.”
I had just gotten home from work. And my stuff? Already packed, sitting by the door.
Panicked, I called our lawyer, Matthew. I told him Charlotte had kicked me out and that I didn’t know what to do.
But instead of sympathy, he laughed.
“I can’t believe it! Everything is happening exactly the way your father predicted. Come to my office tomorrow — I have something to show you.”
“I’ll book you a room for tonight,” he added. “A motel or a cozy bed and breakfast. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll send a car and the address.”
I waited for the message.
When the car arrived, the driver took me to a lovely little bed and breakfast.
“Here you are, ma’am,” he said as he carried out my bags.
I was just unpacking my pajamas when the owner knocked on my door.
“Dawn?” she asked. “Matthew asked me to bring you dinner. I have mac and cheese and a salad.”
I couldn’t believe how kind the lawyer was. I didn’t even know him that well, but he was taking care of me when no one else would.
That night, I barely slept.
The next morning, I dragged myself to Matthew’s office, physically and emotionally drained. He welcomed me with a warm smile.
“Have a seat, kid,” he said. “You’ll want to be sitting for this.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He slid a folder across the desk.
“Your father was a smart man, Dawn,” he said. “He knew Charlotte would probably kick you out the moment she had control of the house.”
“He knew?” I whispered.
“That’s why he asked me to draw this up.”
Matthew opened the folder.
“Seven years ago, your father inherited a large sum of money — nearly two million dollars — from a distant relative who had no children. Your father had taken care of her when she needed help.”
“What?” I gasped.
“He didn’t tell either of you about it. I’m sure he had his reasons. But here’s the important part: your father split the money between you and Charlotte.”
“She gets a share too?” I asked, feeling my heart sink.
“Yes. But there’s a condition — Charlotte must share the house with you equally.”
I sat up straighter. Maybe this wasn’t hopeless after all.
“If she refuses, she gets nothing,” he said firmly. “And there’s more.”
He handed me a letter.
It was my father’s handwriting.
Dawn, my darling,
I know Charlotte, sweetheart. I know exactly what she’ll do.
But you’re smarter than she is. You always have been.
The money is in a safety deposit box. Use it wisely, my girl.
I love you more than anything.
—Dad
I stared at the bank details on the letter.
“I don’t know the code to the box,” I whispered.
Matthew smiled.
“The watch,” he said.
I took the watch off my wrist and turned it over. There were tiny scratches on the back — four faint numbers.
A code.
Matthew grinned.
“Your dad was a genius, Dawn.”
And I laughed — really laughed — for the first time since my father had died.
Charlotte had the house… but also all the debt. And she had just kicked out the one person who could save her from losing it all.
A few days later, I was still staying at the bed and breakfast when Charlotte called me. I let it ring while I poured myself a glass of water.
Then I picked it up.
“Hello?” I said sweetly.
“You knew, didn’t you?” she snapped.
“Knew what?”
“The house,” she hissed. “The lawyer just called. There’s debt — a lot of it. Thousands. If it’s not paid off, they’ll take the house. And you…” She took a shaky breath. “You have the money, don’t you?”
I gently twirled Dad’s watch around my wrist.
“I might have the money,” I said. “But let’s be honest — we don’t exactly have a great history. You did kick me out.”
She was silent.
“You have to help me!” she pleaded.
I smiled.
“I would’ve helped you, Charlotte,” I said softly. “If you had been nicer to me growing up. Maybe then, I’d care.”
And I hung up.
Matthew helped me search for a furnished apartment.
“Something small will be perfect,” he said. “You have a few months before college starts. You don’t need a big place. And once you turn eighteen, you’ll be free to do whatever you want. For now, just focus on school.”
“Thank you for everything,” I told him. “I’d be lost without you.”
“Your father told me everything, Dawn — about how difficult Charlotte made your life, especially after your mother left. I promised him I’d help you get on your feet.”
A few weeks later, I moved into a cozy studio apartment in a creative part of town — and I loved it.
I’m not sure what happened to Charlotte. But one evening, I passed by our old house and saw a big SOLD sign out front.
Maybe I should’ve felt bad. But I didn’t.
That place wasn’t home anymore — not without my dad.
And somehow, he was still looking after me… even through Matthew.