When my father’s will was read, revealing an inheritance tied to staying married for five years, I thought I could handle it. But little did I know, my husband’s secret and my brother’s games would shatter everything I believed in.
The moment the lawyer opened the will, the room seemed to close in around me. My chest tightened as if the air itself had turned thick and heavy. The rain outside tapped steadily against the window, its rhythm matching the pounding of my pulse in my ears.
On the lawyer’s desk, a cold coffee cup sat forgotten, an odd little detail that made everything feel even more unreal, like we were in a strange dream.
The lawyer’s voice droned on, but his words blurred into a hum.
“Farm… house… bank accounts… watch collection…”
And then came the condition.
There’s always a condition, isn’t there?
“To my children, Jen and Henry, on the condition that both remain married for the next five years. Any divorce during this period will forfeit one party’s share, leaving the full estate to the other.”
I glanced at Henry. He was leaning back in his chair, arms casually crossed, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. His fingers drummed lazily on the armrest, and a smirk tugged at his lips, as if he had already won.
Sarah, his wife, sat beside him, her face calm, but her eyes distant. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Together, they looked like they were about to win this game without breaking a sweat.
Then, my gaze shifted to Ted, my husband. He sat stiffly, his eyes fixed on some point far away. His jaw was tight, like a man struggling to hold something back. If guilt had a face, it would look exactly like his.
The affair I’d discovered months ago—Ted’s affair—was a ticking time bomb, and I had been doing my best to defuse it, to keep everything together. But in that moment, with my father’s will hanging over us like a storm cloud, everything changed.
As we walked out of the lawyer’s office, Henry sidled up to me, a grin still playing on his lips.
“Well, sis,” he said casually, shoving his hands in his pockets, “looks like Dad wants us to play nice. Not that I mind. Sarah and I are solid. But you…”
He trailed off, his eyes studying me with that familiar, knowing smirk. Henry always knew more than he let on. Months ago, he had casually mentioned seeing Ted at a hotel with his secretary. The words had burned, but at the time, I hadn’t wanted to believe him.
He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Think you’ve got what it takes to keep it together?”
I swallowed hard, the sting of his words sharper than I wanted to admit. “Don’t you have some gloating to do elsewhere, Henry?”
He chuckled, tipping an imaginary hat. “Touché. But seriously, good luck. You’ll need it.”
Though his words cut deep, I said nothing. This was a battle neither of us were fully prepared for.
The next two weeks felt like walking a tightrope over a deep canyon. Each day, each hour, was a balancing act. Ted and I barely spoke. We’d exchange only the most necessary words.
“Dinner’s on the stove,” I’d mutter.
“Thanks,” he’d reply, his eyes never leaving his phone.
The silence between us had become suffocating. Every time Ted avoided looking at me, I knew. We were both trapped in this marriage, but it wasn’t love that held us together anymore. It was my father’s will.
Most evenings, I’d find myself staring out at the farm. The land meant everything to me. Every tree, every fence post held memories of my father—his steady voice teaching me how to mend a broken gate or care for a sick calf.
Henry, on the other hand, had never cared for the farm. He’d borrowed money from Dad over the years, spent it on parties, and whisked Sarah away on extravagant trips.
The thought of him inheriting the farm made my grip tighten around my coffee mug one morning. The pressure was too much, and the mug cracked in my hands.
“Are you okay?” Ted asked, finally looking up from his phone.
I quickly set the broken mug down. “Fine.”
He said nothing more, as usual, just retreating back into his silence.
Meanwhile, Henry acted as if he had no worries at all. He called me three times that week, his tone annoyingly cheerful.
“Just checking in, sis. How’s Ted?”
“Same as always,” I’d reply, keeping my answers short and sharp.
“Great, great,” he’d say, as if we were simply catching up after a vacation.
Then, without warning, he invited Ted and me to dinner.
When we arrived at Henry’s house that Saturday evening, it looked like something out of a magazine. The table was set with fine china, candles flickered softly, and Sarah moved about the room like an effortless hostess.
But her forced smile didn’t fool me.
As we ate, Henry launched into a story about his “big plans” for a work trip abroad.
“Paris this time,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Meetings, dinners, the usual grind.”
But I could tell that Sarah was barely holding it together. Then, without any warning, she slammed her fork onto her plate.
“Enough!” she shouted, her voice shaking. “I know this trip isn’t about work! It’s just another excuse to run away from me!”
The room went still. Sarah stood, trembling with anger, her face flushed.
“You think I don’t see it, Henry? Fine. We’re done.”
With that, she stormed out, leaving her chair spinning in her wake. Henry, of course, sighed dramatically, almost as if he had expected it.
Later that night, Henry showed up on my porch, a folder in hand.
“Well, Jen,” he said with a dry chuckle, “you win. My marriage is over, but yours is still standing. I even bet on Sarah sticking around. Guess I lost that too.”
His voice was laced with a defeat I hadn’t expected, and for a brief moment, I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“Sarah kicked me out,” he added, as if that should explain everything.
I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. My own failing marriage was a secret I hadn’t shared with anyone. I should have turned him away, but instead, I let him in. He had nowhere else to go, and despite everything, he was still my brother.
As he walked toward the guest house, a thought lingered in my mind: Do I even want to win this game?
Henry settled into the guest house like he owned the place. He was at ease, lounging around with an air of entitlement, making comments about how “nice” everything was. I should’ve been furious, but I couldn’t bring myself to kick him out. He was still my brother, and deep down, I knew he was struggling too.
One morning, he called out to me, a coffee cup in one hand and toast in the other. “Morning, sis! This place is nice, but you know what it needs? A hot tub. Something to make the evenings more relaxing.”
I wiped my hands on a towel, trying not to snap. “Henry, you’re not staying here forever.”
“Who says I’m planning to?” he grinned. “Just getting comfy while I figure things out.”
The audacity of it all made my stomach churn. Ted and I had barely spoken, and his absence from the house had become the new normal.
One morning, after yet another night of Ted not coming home, I waited in the kitchen. When Ted walked in, his clothes rumpled and his face drawn, I didn’t hold back.
“We need to talk,” I said, my voice icy.
He stopped in his tracks, then slowly sat at the kitchen table without saying a word.
“I’m filing for divorce,” I said, my voice low but firm. “And don’t even pretend. I know about the affair.”
Ted looked at me for a long moment before answering quietly, “I won’t argue. You deserve better than this.”
I blinked, surprised by his acceptance. “That’s it? No excuses? No trying to fix this?”
He shook his head. “What’s left to fix, Jen? We both know this has been over for a while.”
The divorce was quick and final. I left Ted the house, the furniture, even the photos and dishes. It was easier to walk away than to cling to a life that had already fallen apart.
I packed my bags, leaving behind the remnants of a marriage that was beyond repair, and moved to the farm.
The farm was supposed to be my new beginning, a fresh start. I unloaded my car, waiting for the lawyer’s call to confirm that it was finally mine. But when I stepped onto the porch, my heart sank.
There was Henry, a champagne glass in hand, surrounded by laughing friends. His smug grin was impossible to miss.
Henry swirled the champagne in his glass, his smile widening. “You thought I divorced Sarah for real? That we’d throw everything away for nothing?”
The realization hit me like a punch to the stomach. “You knew about Ted.”
“Of course I did,” Henry said smoothly. “Sarah saw him with his secretary a long time ago. We figured we’d help you out… give you a little push.”
“You staged it all?” I whispered, disbelief washing over me.
He shrugged, unbothered. “You played your part perfectly. Didn’t even question it. So predictable.”
My fists clenched, rage bubbling inside me. “You used me.”
“Don’t take it personally,” he winked. “It’s just business, Jen. And now, it’s all mine.”
At that moment, everything I had worked for, everything I had fought to protect, slipped through my fingers.
Henry’s little celebration didn’t last. The next day, he disappeared, leaving me alone in an empty house. I wandered the halls, my fingers brushing over the furniture, the photos, the books that had once meant so much to my father.
I ended up in the library, my father’s voice echoing in my memory. “This book is keeping a secret,” he had said one day, pointing to the top shelf. “One day, you’ll be tall enough to find it.”
I reached up now, pulling the heavy book from the shelf. Dust floated in the air as I opened it, and an envelope slipped out, addressed to me, written in my father’s familiar handwriting.
“What now, Dad?” I whispered, my voice breaking as tears welled in my eyes.
The letter read:
“Jen, honey,
Inheritance is more than just things. It’s what you build around you. I hope you’ll make the right choice. The estate belongs to the one brave enough to leave behind illusions for the sake of truth.
I knew both your and Henry’s marriages were on the brink. But I trust you to see past the lies. If the farm is yours now, don’t abandon your brother. He deserves a second chance.
Love, Dad”
I sat there, the letter clenched tightly in my hands, my heart heavy with emotion.
Later, I called the lawyer. “Is it true? There’s another clause?”
“Yes. The farm is yours, Jen,” he confirmed.
Weeks passed, and despite the anger and bitterness swirling inside me, my father’s words echoed in my mind. Henry wasn’t just my rival; he was my brother. And when he came back, broken and humbled, I opened the door.
“Let me guess,” I said, crossing my arms. “You need help.”
Henry lowered his gaze, ashamed. “You were right. I messed up. But Jen, I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
I sighed. “You can stay. But you’re working for it. Every day.”
He nodded quickly. “Deal. Thanks, sis.”
At first, it was awkward. But slowly, things changed. Henry surprised me by working hard. He met Lyra, a kind and genuine woman who brought out the best in him.
One evening, as we sat on the porch watching the sunset, Henry smiled. “You were always the better one, Jen.”
I laughed softly. “We both are. That’s what Dad wanted.”
