My sister got the house. I got a chessboard. At first, I thought it was my father’s final insult — until I heard something strange rattling inside one of the pieces.
“Life is a chess game,” my father used to say. “You don’t win by shouting. You win by seeing three moves ahead.”
I would roll my eyes every time he said that. But that day, I would have given anything to hear him say it one more time.
I didn’t speak when he died in the bedroom where we used to play chess every Sunday. I didn’t speak when the neighbors brought warm casseroles and colder condolences. I didn’t speak when my half-sister Lara showed up — tanned, smiling, wrapped in a coat that probably cost more than the entire funeral.
“Gosh,” Lara said to my mother, “it still smells like him in here.”
Of course, it did. His perfumed coat was still hanging by the door, a reminder of him in the stillness.
But Lara didn’t come to mourn. She came to collect.
We sat side by side, waiting for the reading of the will. Finally, the lawyer unfolded the envelope.
“For my daughter Lara, I leave the house and everything within it,” he read aloud. “The property cannot be sold while its current resident remains.”
Lara didn’t even look at me. She just smiled.
“And for my daughter Kate…” The lawyer paused, and my heart skipped a beat.
“I leave my chessboard and its pieces.”
Lara let out a soft snort and tilted her head toward me.
“A house for me, and a hobby for you. Fitting, don’t you think?”
I didn’t answer. I just stood up, grabbed the chess set, and walked out. I could still hear her laughter behind me, echoing off the walls like the sound of a door slamming shut.
Outside, the wind cut through my sleeves, biting and cold. I walked without thinking, lost in my mind. Before I even realized it, I found myself at the old park. The chess tables were still there, half-sunken in stone and moss, a relic of my childhood.
I sat down, opened the box, and my fingers moved automatically. Bishop. Knight. Pawn. King.
“You’re really doing this?” A voice sliced through the silence.
I didn’t need to turn around. It was Lara. She appeared beside me and dropped into the seat like it was always hers.
“Still clinging to Daddy’s toys? You really are predictable,” she said, mocking me with that smile I hated.
She reached out and moved a pawn without asking. I moved one in return.
We started playing.
“You know,” she said, cocking her head, “he always thought this game taught character. But it’s just wood. Just symbols.”
She moved again, her fingers quick and sure. “I got the house.”
I didn’t respond. I just kept playing, focusing on the pieces.
“You got a game,” she continued, her voice dripping with smugness.
Pawn. Knight. Bishop.
“You always thought this meant something,” she went on. “But in the end, it’s just wood.”
Her final move came fast. A snap of her wrist.
“Checkmate,” she declared, slamming the knight down with unnecessary flair.
Then, for the drama, or maybe just to hurt me, she stood and swept the board with her arm.
“No point in clinging to illusions,” she said, as the pieces scattered in every direction. Some bounced on the stone table, others tumbled into the grass. One landed near my foot.
I reached down, picked it up. It was heavier than I remembered. I rolled it between my fingers.
Click.
What was that?
Not the sound of wood. Not hollow. I gently shook another piece. Rattle. My breath caught in my throat.
There’s something inside!
I looked up. Lara was watching me, her gaze cold but calculating. Our eyes locked for a split second, and I was almost sure — she had heard it too. But she didn’t show it. She just tilted her head, as if bored, and looked past me like I wasn’t even there.
“Come to dinner tonight,” she said casually, as if nothing had happened. “Mother asked. Said we should honor him properly. As a family.”
I blinked.
“Did she really?”
“Of course. It’s what he would’ve wanted. We should all be… civil,” she added, then turned and walked away, her heels clicking sharply against the path.
Did she just make that up? Or was it part of her plan?
Knowing Lara, either answer could be true. She was clever, and invitations could be just as dangerous as threats.
That dinner wasn’t a gesture.
It was a move.
She was playing with me now, and I had no choice but to sit at the board.
A few hours later, I came downstairs to find Lara already in the kitchen, humming to herself as she stirred something in a pot, plating food like she’d done it a thousand times.
She even wore an apron — the one she used to call “tragically domestic.”
“Evening,” she said brightly, opening the oven. “Hope you’re hungry. I made rosemary chicken. And there’s a vegan option for Mom.”
I blinked. Our mother looked at Lara as if she had just stepped into a stranger’s shoes.
“You cooked?” she asked, her brow raised in disbelief.
Lara laughed, that sweet, sickening laugh.
“It’s not that hard. I followed a recipe. Even cut fresh parsley for garnish.”
Fresh parsley. Of course.
I took my seat in silence, across from the imposter who wore my sister’s face.
Throughout the meal, Lara kept up the performance, passing dishes with both hands, topping off water glasses, smiling as if she hadn’t just mocked me in a park hours earlier.
She didn’t look at me. Not directly. Not until I stood up, walked over to the hallway console, and placed the closed chessboard behind me. Just behind me, in full view.
That was my move.
I offered a pawn. I wanted to see if she’d flinch. But she didn’t. Her smile just stretched a little too tight.
Our mother noticed.
“You’ve been very sweet today,” she said to Lara, her voice light but sharp. “Unusually sweet.”
“I’m trying to be better. We’re family, right?” Lara replied, her voice oozing with feigned innocence.
“Some bonds are stronger than others,” our mother said, cutting into her food with deliberate precision. “Especially when they’re tested. When people choose to stay, to support.”
Her eyes didn’t leave mine as she spoke, her words digging into me like knives.
I forced a smile.
“Is that what this is? Support?” I asked, the words tight in my throat.
“I just think,” our mother continued, setting her fork down, “that your father… he finally saw who truly stood beside him. Who gave him peace.”
“Peace?” I asked, my voice trembling with bitterness. “You mean silence. Compliance. He didn’t want peace — he wanted loyalty.”
“And you think that was you?” Lara asked, her tone mocking.
I looked at her. “I stayed. I bathed him. Fed him. Watched him fade.”
“And he left you a game,” Lara said, her smile smug.
“Maybe that says more about him than me,” I shot back.
Our, no, Lara’s mother leaned forward.
“He gave my daughter the house because she deserved it. She sacrificed more than you know. And maybe it’s time you stopped acting like the victim.”
“I’m not acting. You’re just not used to seeing me speak.”
There was a pause — a sharp, uncomfortable one. Then Lara laughed, a high, almost fake sound.
“Okay, let’s not ruin dinner. This is supposed to be nice.”
Her mother turned to me.
“You should start packing in the morning. Just so there are no… complications.”
I stared at her, at both of them. At the false peace they tried to pass as family.
I picked up my plate, quietly walked to the sink, and set it down. I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t say a word.
I just turned and walked upstairs, locking my door behind me.
Dinner wasn’t over.
The house was holding its breath. I was waiting.
Suddenly, I heard the soft creak of floorboards somewhere in the dark. A quiet click of a drawer. A velvet shuffle.
I moved silently down the hall, my heart pounding, and found Lara crouched over the chessboard, the pieces scattered, some cracked open. A paring knife beside her.
One of the rooks had cracked in half. She was holding a small velvet pouch, glinting with something stolen.
“So,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “it wasn’t just wood after all.”
Lara spun around, startled. But then, she narrowed her eyes.
“You knew.”
I didn’t answer. I just looked at her, a calm smile creeping onto my face.
She stood, straightening herself like a dancer preparing for the final bow.
“I solved it,” she said, her voice smug. “He left the real gift inside the game. And I found it.”
“You broke it open like a thief,” I replied coolly.
“He gave you the board, but he gave me the meaning. And now I have it.”
“Do you?” I asked, stepping closer.
From the shadows, her mother emerged, her face unreadable.
“She figured it out,” she said simply. “And you didn’t.”
I looked at both of them, at the satisfaction twisting in their expressions. They had already reached for the stones.
Lara lifted the pouch, dropping a few of the bright, glassy stones into her palm.
“Check and mate,” she whispered.
I met her gaze.
“No. Zugzwang,” I said, my voice cold.
“What?” Lara asked, her eyes narrowing.
“It’s a chess term,” I explained, stepping forward, “It means every move you make now only makes things worse.”
Her mother frowned. “What are you talking about?”
I tapped one of the pieces Lara had cracked open. Glass. Colored, smooth. I looked directly at Lara.
“From a sewing kit I’ve had since I was fifteen.”
Lara went pale.
“You found what I let you find,” I said. “The stones are fake. Glass. From an old bead kit I used to keep for sewing buttons.”
Her face went white. “You’re lying.”
I reached into my coat and pulled out a slim envelope.
“Here’s the deposit confirmation from the bank. The real pouch is locked away. Under my name. Safe. Untouchable.”
Lara recoiled as if the paper had burned her.
I smiled coldly.
“And there’s something else.” I reached into the lining of the chessboard case. A folded piece of paper, soft from time, but intact.
“My father’s real will. The one he hid, because he knew the official one would only start the game.”
I opened it and began to read aloud:
“To my daughters…
If you’re reading this, it means the game has played out.
Lara, I loved you fiercely. I gave you much. You had freedom, opportunity, and every chance to show who you are. To your mother — I gave all I could. I hope it brought peace.
Kate — you stayed. You carried the weight. I gave you little but left you the map. That was my last game. My test.
If you are honest, you may live together in peace. If not, everything belongs to Kate.
I gave you all the pieces of me. I needed to see who would protect the whole.”
I folded the letter. Silence hung heavy between us. I looked at Lara, then her mother.
“Checkmate.”
