Hey there! I’ve got a story for you that’s straight out of a soap opera. But this isn’t fiction—this is my life. I’m Angela, a 19-year-old who just inherited my estranged father’s mansion and fortune, leaving his second wife and daughter with a mere fraction. But as I was starting to adjust to my new life, I discovered a secret that would test my integrity.
Let’s rewind a bit. My dad was a real piece of work. He broke my mom’s heart by having an affair with Clara and then had my half-sister, Lily. After the divorce when I was 10, I lived with my mom and saw my dad sporadically. To be honest, I wasn’t missing much. Growing up, my dad was more like a guest star in the sitcom of my life, popping up now and then but never really part of the main cast.
My mom, though, she’s a total rockstar. She picked up the pieces without ever dissing him in front of me, always saying he loved me in his own messed-up way. My dad lived in this ridiculously huge mansion by the coast, made his fortune, sold his business for millions, and that house? It’s on an island, the biggest land around, sold for a fortune too. Despite his wealth, he was bitter, holding grudges like trophies. When he sold his business and moved into that mansion on the island, our already rare visits became even less frequent, turning our relationship into something you’d barely call acquaintances.
I wasn’t close to him, but I did idolize my aunt, his sister, who’s an RN. She’s basically the cool aunt everyone wishes they had. Hanging out with her made me think that maybe not everything about my dad’s side of the family was a lost cause. She’s also the reason I decided I wanted to become a nurse. My dad seemed to respect that, always saying he was proud of me following in her footsteps.
So when he passed away, imagine my shock when I found out he left everything to me! We’re talking about an 8-million-dollar legacy! The will reading was surreal. Here I was, expecting maybe a sentimental item or two, but instead, I got the keys to Hamilton Manor, his prized possession. Meanwhile, Clara and Lily got a mere $10,000 each. It didn’t add up, especially since he seemed to dote on them.
Hearing about my dad’s death knocked the wind out of me. I thought I was over it, but sitting in that lawyer’s office, listening to his will, all those old feelings of abandonment came rushing back. And then finding out he left me everything, including the mansion, while Clara and Lily got next to nothing? Total plot twist.
I eventually moved into the mansion, even though it felt weird. Every room was like a time capsule of my family’s past, filled with memories I wasn’t sure I was ready to face. But nothing prepared me for what I eventually found on his old laptop in the study. After settling in, I started poking around my dad’s stuff. In his study, which was like a shrine to his ego, I found his old, dusty laptop. Curiosity got the best of me; I powered it up, half expecting it to fall apart.
What I found blew my mind! Emails upon emails between my dad and his lawyer about this crazy plan to fake his death. Yeah, you heard that right. The man staged his own death as some twisted loyalty test for Clara and Lily. The will? Part of the act. He was planning on coming back from the dead once he saw how they’d react to their inheritance. The mansion and all that money he left me? Just props in his twisted game.
Sitting alone in the study, surrounded by the remnants of my dad’s grand scheme, I felt like I was at the epicenter of an emotional quake. The laptop in front of me felt like Pandora’s box—its secrets out and wreaking havoc in my life. I leaned back, trying to process the whirlwind of feelings: betrayal, confusion, a weird sense of vindication, and under it all, a deep, nagging hurt.
It’s one thing to suspect your dad prefers playing the aloof millionaire over being, you know, an actual dad. It’s another to find out he staged his own death as some bizarre loyalty test. Who does that? The revelation forced me to question everything I thought I knew about love, loyalty, and family. Was his version of love always about tests and conditions? Had loyalty been reduced to just another game to him?
Family. That word felt so heavy now. I always envied friends who had those warm, sitcom-style families. Mine? We could probably give the most twisted soap operas a run for their money. But sitting in that mess of revelations, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to redefine what family meant to me. Could I take this inheritance, this burden of wealth, and turn it into something… good?
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