I’m Claire, a software developer with a low-key life—until I inherited Grandma Martha’s house. My grandma and I were inseparable. When she passed, her house was mine. I spent months renovating it, pouring sweat and late-night efforts into preserving its spirit—just how Grandma dreamed it.
My real motive? I wanted Mom to have a beautiful home again after Dad left us with nothing. Seeing her face light up when I showed her the finished house makes every ache worth it. Then came a knock on a bright spring afternoon. My heart raced as I opened the door to find Emma—my sister—the one who vanished fourteen years ago, leaving us burdened with debt and heartbreak.
“I heard Grandma passed… and that you inherited the house,” she began, voice unsteady. “I want my share.” The audacity! The same sister who vanished when we needed her most—now suddenly here to claim property?
I stared, furious and stunned. How dare she? I stood up, firm and resolute: “You walked away. You abandoned us. That house was my gift to Mom. And you—you’re not entitled to one brick.” She turned pale but didn’t back down. She said she was Martha’s granddaughter too—she deserved something.
But doing what’s right isn’t always easy. I defended the law, the will, and the heart of the matter: I’d renovated that house—not for profit, but for family healing. Emma’s return felt opportunistic and painful. She left, and with her, a flood of emotional turmoil. But there I was—standing strong, knowing I’d honored Grandma’s memory and protected the future she wanted for all of us.
