Sheila is my name. I work as the finance director for a big company and am 32.
Ten years ago, my own family threw me out with nothing, so I had to fight my way up here.
Mom left when I was six. She left a note saying she “couldn’t handle being a mother anymore” and ran off with another man. It was just Dad and me for three years. He did his best, and we had a good schedule.
She came back at nine, crying, saying she was sorry, and holding a little girl. The DNA test showed that the child, Emma, was Dad’s. He forgave her, they got back together, and I thought things would go back to how they used to be.
I was completely wrong.
I became invisible as soon as she got back. Everyone turned their attention to Emma. She was at the center of everything. They came to my graduation as valedictorian, but they left early because Emma had soccer.
I was happy when I got a full scholarship to a school across the state. I thought I could stay home for a few months after graduation while I looked for a job.
Dad said, “You can stay for two weeks.”
“Emma is now sixteen.” “She needs some space.”
Mom said, “Sheila, you’re grown.”
“Time to take care of yourself.”
So I stayed with a friend, found a job, and started a career from scratch. I was done with them.
My assistant came into my office ten years later. “Sheila, there’s a man here who says he’s your father.”
I went downstairs and saw him there. He looked weak, pale, and much older than he was.
He quietly told people in a café, “I have cancer.”
“Pancreatic.” Doctors say I have two or three years.
He was still my dad, no matter what. I really did say, “I’m sorry.” “What can I do?”
He took a deep breath. “The house. I’m late on my payments. Foreclosure is coming. I want you to buy it from me. Pay off the debt, and it’s yours. That way, Emma and your mother can stay in their house.
I looked at him. The man who had kicked me out was now begging me to save their roof. I wanted to laugh right away. But then I thought about it. I had been looking to buy a house, and the price had gone up a lot.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll buy it.”
The paperwork was finished two months later. I owned the house where I grew up. Emma and Mom didn’t know.
A few months later, Dad asked me to dinner. It was as tense as I thought it would be. Dad looked relieved, Mom was cold, and Emma spent the whole meal talking about her trip to Europe, her new Mercedes, and a designer bag that probably cost thousands of dollars—all of which I had given Dad money for. I just smiled and ate.
Six months went by. Dad’s health got worse. Since Mom and Emma didn’t want to deal with “the messy stuff,” I started stopping by every day after work. He asked me to come back to my old room, and I did.
Dad died three months later. I held his hand as he died. Mom and Emma were out buying clothes for the funeral.
When I got back from the cemetery the day after the funeral, all of my things were in garbage bags on the lawn. The locks had been changed.
“Get out, Sheila!” Mom yelled from the house. “This house is ours.” You don’t live here anymore.
I didn’t fight. I loaded my car and drove away, knowing what was going to happen.
Mom, Emma, and Emma’s live-in boyfriend, Tyler, all smiled like they had already won when they went to the lawyer’s office two days later.
The lawyer read, “To my wife, half of the money in the bank.” To Emma, the rest of the house and all of its contents. To Sheila, my books.
“And the house?” Emma yelled.
The lawyer frowned. “Not in the will.”
“What?!” Mom got angry. “He owned it!”
The lawyer said, “Not according to the records.” “The property was sold more than a year ago.”
The room was silent in shock.
“That’s not possible!” Mom said.
I got up slowly. “There is no mistake. I bought the house more than a year ago.
Emma’s face lost all its color. “What did you say?”
I took out the deed. “Dad needed cash. I helped him out. “Legal, recorded, and all right.”
“You’re lying!” Emma screamed.
The lawyer looked over the paper. “This seems right.”
Mom grabbed it, her voice shaking. “Fraud!” You fooled him!
I said calmly, “No one was tricked. He asked for help.” ” I helped. That’s all there is to it.
“You knew!” Emma poked me with a finger. “You knew we thought we would get it!”
I said coldly, “You thought.” “And speaking of assumptions, you have two weeks to leave.”
“Two weeks?!” Mom said something. “That’s not possible!”
I said, “You should have thought of that before you threw my things on the lawn,” and then I left.
My phone rang all the time for the next week. Emma was crying and threatening. I didn’t pay any attention to them.
I drove over two weeks later. There was a moving truck in the driveway. The place was empty inside; there was no furniture, appliances, or even toilet seats. There were only Dad’s books left.
Emma glared at me with tears in her eyes.
“You’re to blame!” Because of you, we’re stuck in a bad apartment!”
“No,” I said in a calm voice. “You are there because you spent your inheritance on things you didn’t need instead of being responsible.”
They left without saying anything else.
I smiled as I stood in my empty house.
Months later, I heard back. Mom was back at work full-time. Emma sold her car and got a job in a store. Tyler left as soon as he found out she wasn’t rich.
