My Sister Kicked Me Out of the House After Our Father’s Death — But She Didn’t Know He Had Foreseen It

I always knew my sister, Charlotte, didn’t care about me. But I never thought she’d throw me out onto the street two weeks after our father’s funeral.

For as long as I could remember, it had been just the three of us, Dad, Charlotte, and me.

Well, mostly just Dad and me.

Charlotte, at 35 years old, had never truly been part of this family. She lived in our dad’s house, but it was never her home. She was always out. Sometimes it was parties, or out with friends, or even just chasing the next “big thing,” as she always said.

“I’m going to be great, Dawn,” she said. “I’m meant for a bigger life. Not a tiny life where nobody knows who I am. You might understand it one day.”

She treated our house like it was a crash pad, showing up only when she needed something, especially when she was low on money.

I, on the other hand, was 17 and had never known anything outside of these walls. I had been Dad’s shadow, following him around the house, helping him with repairs, cooking dinner for us when he got home from work.

“Homecooked meals are the way to go, Dawn,” he’d say. “It doesn’t matter how tired you are, you should always make something for yourself.”

“Do noodles from the packet count?” I asked.

All I remembered from that conversation was the way my father looked at me and laughed.

Growing up, I always wondered if Charlotte resented me. She was already eighteen when I was born. A legal adult with her whole life ahead of her. Meanwhile, I was just the baby that came after.

I was the surprise that my mom didn’t even bother sticking around for. But my dad? He adored me.

“Dawn, you were the dawn of a new beginning, my love,” he would say. “You were the biggest surprise of my life, and I welcomed you with everything I had.”

Maybe that was part of it. Maybe that was why Charlotte behaved the way she did.

By the time I was old enough to really know her, Charlotte was already pulling away. She didn’t see me as a sister, not really. More like an inconvenience in her life. A kid tagging along where I wasn’t wanted.

She never read me bedtime stories or played games with me. When Dad took us out for ice cream, she barely looked up from her phone.

But I still thought, somehow, she cared.

That she’d be here when it mattered.

But I was so wrong.

And then Dad died. And everything in my life fell apart.

Two weeks after the funeral, we sat in the lawyer’s office. Charlotte was dressed up, but she sat there, barely looking sad. Instead, she looked bored. If anything, she seemed like this was a waste of her time. She checked her nails as we waited for the reading of Dad’s will.

And me?

I sat stiffly beside her, my hands clenched together in my lap. I didn’t know how to feel or what to think, except that I was drowning in grief.

The lawyer cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that, ladies,” he said. “I had to take that call. Now, let’s get back to business.”

Charlotte looked up, finally acknowledging his presence.

“The house goes to Charlotte,” he said.

I felt my stomach twist. I wasn’t going to argue it… but why?

Why would my father do this to me?

“And to you,” the lawyer turned to me, “your father left you this.”

He handed me a small box. I knew what was inside before I even opened it.

It was Dad’s watch.

It was old, scratched, and barely worked. But for as long as I could remember, I had seen it resting on my dad’s wrist.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Charlotte let out a snort.

“Seriously? His watch?” she laughed. “God, even when dead, Dad’s still playing favorites.”

I ignored her. My fingers traced over the watch’s worn leather strap. It smelled like him. I didn’t care about the house. I didn’t care about the belongings. I just wanted my dad back.

How was I going to go to college without him?

For the next few days, we still lived under the same roof. We barely spoke. I went to school. I went to work at the coffee shop after school. I came home.

It was a routine, and I loved it. I stuck to it like my life depended on it.

Because without it? I would drown in the grief.

Then, one evening, I came home from my shift at the coffee shop and found all my stuff packed by the front door, including my guitar.

Charlotte stood in the hallway with her arms crossed. She had a smug smile plastered on her face.

“This is it!” she said joyfully. “Our paths split here, Dawn. I need you to leave.”

“What?” I blinked slowly, as though I was in a dream and trying to wake up.

“You heard me, little sister,” she said, gesturing to my suitcases. “This house is mine. You heard it for yourself from the lawyer. And I don’t feel like playing babysitter to you anymore.”

I could barely breathe. It felt like every organ in my body was slowly shutting down.

“Charlotte,” I said. “I have nowhere else to go.”

“And that’s not my problem!” she said cheerfully. “You have to figure it out for yourself.”

I felt my eyes burn, but I refused to cry in front of her.

“You’re really doing this? To me?” I whispered, trying to hold back my tears.

She smirked.

“You should have been nicer to me growing up, sis,” she said. “Maybe then, I’d feel bad.”

I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and called our lawyer. When he answered, I blurted everything out.

“Dawn!” he said, sounding surprised. “How can I help?”

“Charlotte kicked me out of the house!” I said. “What do I do?”

There was a pause. And then he… laughed.

A real, genuine laugh.

“I can’t believe this!” he said. “Everything is happening just as your father predicted. Come to my office tomorrow. I have something for you.”

What on earth could he have for me?

“I’ll book you a motel for the night,” he said. “Or a bed and breakfast. Just give me ten minutes, and I’ll send you a car and the address.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I sat on the porch and waited for his text.

When the car arrived, I got into it and watched as the driver took me to a sweet little bed and breakfast.

“Here you go, ma’am,” he said, taking my suitcases out.

How had I gotten here? To this point? How had everything fallen apart so quickly?

I was just unpacking my pajamas when the owner showed up at the door.

“Dawn?” she asked. “Matthew asked me to bring you some dinner. I have mac and cheese and a salad.”

I couldn’t believe how lucky I had gotten with the lawyer. I didn’t know him well, but at least he was taking care of me.

I barely slept that night.

The next morning, I dragged myself to Matthew’s office, exhausted and numb. He greeted me with a warm smile.

“Sit down, kid,” he said. “You’re going to want to be sitting for this.”

I sank into the chair.

“What’s going on?”

He slid a folder across the desk.

“Your father was a smart man, Dawn,” he said. “He knew Charlotte would most likely throw you out the moment she got control of the house.”

“He knew?” I gulped.

“That’s why he made me draw this up,” he said.

Matthew opened the folder, revealing a stack of paperwork.

“Seven years ago, your father inherited a very large sum of money. It was almost two million dollars. It was from a distant relative who didn’t have any children, but your father took care of her when she needed help.”

“What?” I gasped.

“Yeah, he didn’t end up telling either of you. But I’m sure he had his reasons. Now, here’s the catch, Dawn. Your father split the money between you and Charlotte.”

“She gets a share too?” I said slowly, my heart sinking.

“Yes, Dawn. But there’s a condition. Charlotte has to share the house with you equally.”

I sat up straighter. Suddenly, there seemed like a way out of this mess.

“If your sister refuses, she gets absolutely nothing.”

The shock must have been written all over my face because he chuckled.

“There’s more,” he continued. “Your father left you this.”

He slid a letter across the table to me. My hands shook as I opened it.

It was my dad’s writing.

Dawn, my darling,

I know Charlotte, sweetheart. I know what she’ll do. But you are smarter than her. You always have been. The money is in a safety deposit box. Use it wisely, my girl.

I love you more than anything.

—Dad

I stared at the details of the bank account, but I froze.

“I don’t know the code to the safe deposit box,” I whispered.

The lawyer smiled.

“The watch,” he said simply.

I took Dad’s watch off my wrist and turned it over. On the back, there were tiny scratches. Four digits, faint but visible.

A code!

Matthew grinned.

“Your dad was a genius, Dawn.”

Charlotte had the house, but she also had all the debt. And she had just kicked out the one person who could save her from losing everything.

I was still staying at the bed and breakfast a few days later when Charlotte called me. I let it ring while I went to get myself a glass of water.

Then, I picked it up.

“Hello?” I said sweetly.

“You knew, didn’t you?” she spat.

“Knew what?” I asked.

“The house,” she snapped. “The lawyer just called me. There is debt. A lot of it. Like thousands of dollars. If they aren’t paid off, the house gets taken, Dawn. And you…” she let out a shaky breath. “You have the money, don’t you?”

I leaned back in an armchair, twirling my dad’s watch around my wrist.

“I might have the money…” I said. “But we don’t exactly have a good history, do we? You did kick me out.”

She was silent.

“You have to help me!” she said finally.

I smiled.

“I would have helped you, Charlotte,” I said. “If you had been nicer to me growing up, sis. Maybe then, I’d feel bad.”

Then I hung up.

I was going to be in the bed and breakfast a little while longer. Matthew was helping me look for a furnished apartment.

“Something small will be perfect,” he said. “You have a few months before you go off to college, Dawn. You don’t need to be tied down to a big home. An apartment is the way to go. And you’ll be eighteen soon and then you can do whatever you want. For now, you need to focus on school.”

“Thank you for helping me,” I said. “I would have been lost without you.”

“Dawn, your father told me all about you and how difficult your sister made your life. Especially after your mother left the family. I promised your father that I would get you back on your feet.”

A few weeks later, I was in my little studio apartment in an artsy part of town. It was near to my school and the coffee shop, and I loved it.

I don’t know what became of Charlotte, but when I walked past our house one evening, I saw a SOLD sign in the front. I probably should have felt bad, but I didn’t. It wasn’t my home without my father.

And at least, he was still looking out for me, even if it was through Matthew.

What would you have done?

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.