When my late father’s will revealed an inheritance that depended on staying married for five years, I thought I could handle it. But my husband’s hidden secrets and my brother’s underhanded plans shattered everything I believed about family and loyalty.
The lawyer’s office felt like a pressure cooker. The moment the will was read, my chest tightened. The air in the room thickened, making each breath feel like it was dragging through molasses. Outside, rain pelted the windows, its steady rhythm matching the frantic beat of my heart.
A forgotten coffee cup sat on the lawyer’s desk, the once-warm liquid now cold, untouched. It seemed out of place, yet it made everything feel even stranger, like I was in a dream I couldn’t wake up from.
The lawyer’s voice came through, distant and muffled, as if I was underwater. “Farm… house… bank accounts… watch collection…” His words barely registered until the catch was revealed.
There was always a catch.
“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 couldn’t help but look at Henry. He was leaning back in his chair, relaxed, smug even, with a casual smirk playing on his lips. His fingers drummed on the armrest, as though this was a game he was already winning. Beside him, Sarah sat with her calm, unaffected demeanor. They looked as though they could handle anything, as if they were untouchable.
But then I looked at Ted. My husband. The man I had shared my life with. His posture was rigid, his eyes locked on a distant point as if trying to disappear into the chair. His jaw was clenched tight, and guilt practically radiated off of him. It was like he was already bracing for the inevitable fallout.
Months ago, I had discovered the affair. It had been a ticking time bomb, one I had been trying to defuse ever since. But now, with the will in front of me, everything I had tried to ignore exploded.
As we left the lawyer’s office, Henry sidled up to me, his voice dripping with amusement.
“Well, sis,” he said, hands shoved into his pockets, “looks like Dad wanted us to play nice. Not that I mind. Sarah and I are solid. But you…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing as he studied me with that knowing smirk.
Henry always had a way of making me feel small, like he knew something I didn’t. Months ago, he’d casually dropped hints that he had seen Ted at a hotel with his secretary. Those words were like daggers, cutting deeper with every passing day.
He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Think you’ve got what it takes to keep it together?”
I bit back the anger rising in me, not wanting to let him get the satisfaction. “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.”
His words stung more than I wanted to admit, but I said nothing. This wasn’t a game I was ready for, and neither was he.
The next two weeks felt like walking a tightrope. Every day was a balancing act, trying to keep up appearances while my marriage slowly withered. Ted and I barely spoke. The silence between us had grown so thick, I could almost feel it pressing against me.
“Dinner’s on the stove,” I muttered one evening, hoping for some kind of response.
“Thanks,” he replied, not even looking up from his phone.
It was like we were strangers living under the same roof. I could feel the tension, the emptiness that surrounded us. It wasn’t love holding us together anymore—it was the will. The need to stay married for five more years.
I spent most evenings staring out the window, lost in thought. The farm had always been my refuge, the one place that felt like home. Each tree, every fence post, carried memories of my father’s voice, steady and calm, teaching me how to fix things, how to care for the animals.
Henry, on the other hand, had never cared about any of it. He’d always borrowed money, hosting lavish parties and whisking Sarah away on extravagant trips, never lifting a finger to help with the farm.
The thought of him inheriting it made my grip on my coffee cup tighten until it cracked.
“Are you okay?” Ted asked, noticing my sudden tension.
“Fine,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.
Ted didn’t respond. He never did.
Meanwhile, Henry was acting like everything was normal. He called me three times in one week, his tone annoyingly cheerful.
“Just checking in, sis. How’s Ted?” he asked, as if we were old friends catching up.
“Same as always,” I replied curtly, trying to keep the conversation short.
“Great, great,” he said, as though nothing had changed.
Then, out of nowhere, he invited us to dinner.
Ted and I arrived at Henry’s house that Saturday evening, walking into what looked like a picture-perfect scene. The table was set with fine china, candles flickered in the dim light, and Sarah moved around like an eager hostess, her smile just a little too forced.
But I knew better than to be fooled by her act.
Over dinner, Henry launched into one of his usual stories about his “big plans” for a work trip abroad.
“Paris this time,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Meetings, dinners, the usual grind.”
I could tell Sarah was barely holding it together. And then, without warning, she slammed her fork down on her plate, the noise cutting through the tension in the room.
“Enough!” she shouted, her voice trembling. “I know this trip isn’t about work. It’s just another excuse for you to run away from me!”
The room fell into stunned silence as Sarah stood, tears threatening to spill. “You think I don’t see it, Henry? Fine. We’re done.”
She stormed out, her chair spinning in her wake. Henry, ever the drama king, sighed dramatically, almost as if he had been expecting this.
Later that night, Henry appeared at my house, 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.”
He looked defeated, broken in a way I hadn’t seen before. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him.
“Sarah kicked me out,” he added, his voice quieter now.
Guilt gnawed at me. My own failing marriage was a secret I hadn’t shared with anyone. I wasn’t sure why, but I let him into the guest house. Maybe it was pity, or maybe I just didn’t know what else to do.
As he walked away, a thought hit me like a brick: Do I even want to win this game?
Henry settled into the guest house with surprising ease. He acted like he’d always lived there, making himself comfortable without a second thought. I should’ve been angry, but something stopped me. Despite everything, he was still my brother.
“Morning, sis!” he called out one day, balancing a coffee cup and a piece of toast. “This place is nice, but it could use a hot tub. You know, something to make the evenings more relaxing.”
“Henry, you’re not staying here forever,” I snapped, wiping my hands on a towel.
“Who says I’m planning to?” he replied, grinning like nothing had happened. “Just getting comfy while I figure things out.”
It was maddening, watching him go through life as if it were nothing more than a game. Meanwhile, my marriage had fallen apart, Ted was barely home, and everything seemed like it was slipping through my fingers.
One morning, after yet another night of Ted not coming home, I waited for him in the kitchen. He walked in, looking disheveled and worn out.
“We need to talk,” I said, my voice cold and firm.
Ted stopped, his face a mask of exhaustion, and sat at the table without saying a word.
“I’m filing for divorce. And don’t bother pretending. I know about the affair,” I said, my words cutting through the silence.
“I won’t argue,” he replied quietly. “You deserve better than this.”
I blinked, surprised by his calmness. “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, almost too quick. I left Ted the house, the furniture, the pictures, and even the dishes. It was easier that way. I needed to walk away, to leave behind a marriage that had crumbled long before.
I packed my bags and moved to the farm, hoping for a fresh start. But when I arrived, I found Henry waiting for me, champagne glass in hand, surrounded by his friends, all laughing like nothing was wrong.
His smirk told me everything.
“You thought I divorced Sarah for real?” he said, swirling the champagne in his glass. “We planned it all. We knew about Ted.”
My heart sank. “You staged the whole thing?” I whispered, disbelief creeping into my voice.
Henry shrugged, that smug grin still on his face. “You played your part perfectly, sis. Didn’t even question it. So predictable.”
“You used me,” I whispered, my fists clenched at my sides.
“Don’t take it personally,” he said with a wink. “It’s just business. And now, it’s all mine.”
I felt the last shred of hope inside me die. I’ve lost everything.
Henry’s victory was short-lived. The next day, he was gone, leaving behind the empty shell of his celebration. I wandered through the house, touching the familiar things—my father’s books, his chair, his old tools. Each item felt like a piece of my past slipping away.
I found myself in the library, my father’s voice echoing in my mind. “This book is keeping a secret,” he had once said, his eyes twinkling. “One day, you’ll be tall enough to reach it.”
I pulled the book from the top shelf, the dust swirling as it fell open. An envelope slipped out, addressed to me in my father’s familiar handwriting.
“What now, Dad?” I whispered, tears welling 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 clutched the letter to my chest, feeling the weight of his words.
Later, I called the lawyer. “Is it true? There’s another clause?”
“Yes. The farm is yours, Jen,” he confirmed.
Weeks passed. Anger still churned inside me, but my father’s words stuck with me. Henry wasn’t just my rival; he was my brother. When he returned, broken and humbled, I opened the door.
“Let me guess,” I said, crossing my arms. “You need help.”
Henry looked down, 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.”
Things were tense at first, but over time, Henry surprised me. He worked hard, and slowly, he started changing. He even met a woman named Lyra who brought out the best in him.
One evening, as we sat on the porch watching the sunset, Henry smiled at me.
“You were always the better one, Jen,” he said, his voice sincere.
I laughed. “We both are. That’s what Dad wanted.”
