After my father died, everything in the house felt unstable. My older sister barely spoke to me unless it was to remind me I did not belong. The will gave her the house, and me only his old watch, which I held like a final memory of him.
I thought we would grieve together, but instead she treated the inheritance like permission to erase me. Still, I stayed, unsure of what my father truly intended beneath the surface of his quiet decisions.
Desperate, I called our lawyer expecting help, but when I explained everything, he suddenly laughed over the phone
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