Mandy, answer me. Why is there an elderly couple I don’t recognize living in the million-dollar lakeside house I bought for you? Her words froze the lively Thanksgiving table in an instant. Clink. A sharp hollow sound rang out. Across from me, my father, George, had dropped the knife he’d been gripping onto his plate.
I stopped my hand halfway to my mouth, pumpkin pie on the fork, and slowly looked up. My grandmother Dorothy’s gaze pierced straight past me, skewering my sister Ashley, who sat stiffly beside me and then our parents. Having just returned from overseas after several years away, my grandmother seemed far stricter than before, wrapped in an aura that allowed no one to approach her lightly.
“Grandma, what did you just say?” My voice trembled. The words sounded far too unreal to someone like me, who was scraping together even the cost of today’s lunch. Didn’t you hear me, Mandy? I’m talking about the lakeside vacation home. The house I bought for you 3 years ago for your future. Her voice was calm, but beneath it, I could feel something like boiling magma.
Grandma, isn’t there some kind of mistake? I summoned all my courage as I spoke. My heart was pounding wildly. I don’t own any house. Not a vacation home, not even my own apartment. I’m basically homeless right now. I was kicked out of my apartment last month and I’ve been crashing at friends places ever since.
What? My grandmother’s eyebrow twitched. I knew something was wrong. As soon as I got back, I went to check on the place as a surprise. You weren’t there. Instead, an elderly couple I’d never seen before answered the door. They said they were the parents of Ashley’s husband, Kevin. Ashley, would you care to explain what’s going on? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my sister Ashley’s hand trembling as she held her wine glass.
“Ashley!” I turned to look at her. Her eyes darted around, her breathing quick and shallow. “Grandma!” Ashley cried out, almost screaming. “That’s That must be some kind of mistake. Maybe you got the address wrong. There are lots of similar houses around there, and you just got back. You must be exhausted.” “That’s right, Mom.
” My mother, Sandra, jumped in. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. It’s just jet lag. Your memories mixed up. Come on. The turkeyy’s getting cold. Be quiet. My grandmother’s shout slammed down on my mother’s words like a physical blow. Despite her age, her voice was so powerful that everyone at the table flinched. My mind is not failing me yet.
The address, the exterior, it was exactly the house I signed the contract for. And more than that, my grandmother reached into her handbag, pulled out a photograph, and slid it across the table. This is what Kevin’s parents, who were living in that house, said to me, “Were staying in this home owned by our son’s wife, Ashley.
” The moment those words landed, the color drained completely from Ashley’s face. In the photo was a beautiful mansion by the lake, and in front of it, smiling for the camera, stood Ashley, her husband Kevin, and his parents. Shall we ask for an explanation of this photo? Faced with irrefutable evidence, the air in the room grew thick and heavy.
I stared at the photo, doubting my own eyes. It was the very same place Ashley had posted on social media with the caption #mynew vacation home back when I was wearing myself down juggling three part-time jobs. That was my house. What is going on? I stood up. Mom, Dad, what does this mean? Grandma bought a house for me.
Then why am I living like I’m homeless right now? At my question, my father looked away awkwardly. Uh, Mom, it’s complicated. Today’s Thanksgiving. Talking about money at a family dinner isn’t exactly appropriate, is it? Tomorrow we can sit down in my study and talk it through properly. My grandmother cut him off coldly.
No, we’re clearing everything up here and now. Mandy, you really don’t know anything, do you? about the million dollar vacation home I sent you 3 years ago and how it was used. A million dollars. The room spun. The balance in my bank account when I checked it this morning was $12.50. Working three jobs, sacrificing sleep, only to watch everything disappear into student loan payments and living expenses.
A million dollars was a number I couldn’t even imagine. I don’t know anything. I’ve never seen a vacation home, and I’ve never once been told that anyone bought one for me. At my words, my grandmother’s expression softened slightly, a hint of pity flickering across her face. But it vanished just as quickly, replaced by a hard stare as she turned to my parents.
George, Sandra, you told me this, didn’t you? Mandy is mentally unstable and incapable of managing a large sum of money. Until she becomes independent, we will act as her guardians and manage that vacation home on her behalf. What? I couldn’t believe my ears. Wait a second, Mom. Dad, when exactly was I ever mentally unstable? I graduated at the top of my class and have workeddiligently ever since.
I’ve never caused you trouble, not even once. Mandy, calm down, my mother said in a low voice. There was no concern in her eyes, only a warning that said, “Don’t say anything unnecessary. You’re worked up right now. See, this is exactly what I mean by unstable.” “Don’t you dare!” I sprang to my feet. My chair toppled over behind me with a loud crash.
I am perfectly normal. You’re the ones who are sick. When I couldn’t pay my rent, you told me I wasn’t trying hard enough and to be independent, didn’t you? And yet, behind my back, you handed over a house in my name to Ashley. Mandy, how dare you speak to your parents like that? My father shouted, slamming his fist on the table.
We did it for your own good. You don’t have the ability to manage assets, so we entrusted it to Ashley. For my own good. The absurdity of it all left me too numb even to cry. Oh, shut up already. Ashley Thompson screamed. A plain, boring woman like you doesn’t deserve a beautiful house like that. We were just putting it to good use.
You should be thanking us. Ashley, you My vision blurred with frustration. My whole body trembled with rage. This is family. Is this what people bound by blood do to each other? That’s enough. My grandmother’s voice cut cleanly through the swamp of shouting. She rose slowly, leaning on her cane and walked over to me.
Then she placed her hand gently on my shaking shoulder. Mandy is right. All of you are rotten. Completely rotten to the core. Mom, that’s going too far. My father said, his face twisting. We did everything for the sake of the family. My grandmother looked down at him coldly. There is no family here. There are only hyenas who fed on their granddaughter’s property.
Tonight, everything will be settled. She pulled a smartphone from her pocket and pressed a speed dial number. Come in, please. Yes, right now. The front door opened, letting in a gust of cold night air along with a man. It was Mr. Watson, my grandmother’s personal attorney. He carried a thick briefcase. “Mrs.
Hansen, I’ve brought all the documents as instructed.” Attorney Watson said in a business-like tone, setting a heavy stack of papers down on the table. “What is all this?” My father staggered back a step. “George, Sandra, and Ashley,” my grandmother declared. “I will now go through every single fraudulent act you committed. One page at a time.
Don’t think for a moment you can escape. I wiped away my tears and lifted my head. The warmth of my grandmother’s hand gave me strength. That’s right. This wasn’t the time to cry, and I had a duty to make them face the consequences they deserved. In the dead, silent room, my small laugh echoed. I stood up slowly, shedding the mask of the frightened victim I’d been wearing until now.
Pretending to wipe my tears with my napkin, I looked down at my family with cold, merciless eyes. “That’s enough acting, Grandma.” “Yes, indeed, Mandy. I’ve been thoroughly entertained,” my grandmother replied, stepping firmly to my side, her cane tapping the floor. My father, mother, and Ashley were speechless at our sudden transformation.
“Huh, Mandy, why are you laughing?” my mother asked in a trembling voice. “Don’t you see? You guys were being played?” I told her coldly. I continued without mercy. A week ago, grandma contacted me. Not through you, but through my aunt. She said, “It seems the family has been intercepting my letters and deliberately isolating you.
” From that moment on, we knew everything. And that’s why we set the stage for tonight, this so-called Thanksgiving dinner. We waited for the moment you’d let your guard down and confess your crimes with your own mouths. What? We were set up. My father went pale and tried to stand. Sit down. One word from my grandmother pinned him to his chair. This isn’t over yet.
In fact, it’s only just beginning. Mr. Watson, please. Shall we start with the forged gift agreement? The handwriting analysis is complete. Attorney Watson slid a document to the center of the table. It was a real estate registry. This property, Lakeside Manor, was originally purchased by Mrs. Hansen in Mandy Hansen’s name.
However, the current registered owner is Ashley Thompson, your younger sister. The transfer date is October 15th, 3 years ago. The sale price was $1, a gift. $1. That was the price of my life. I stared at the date. October 3 years ago. The exact time I had graduated from college and begun drowning under student loan repayments and living expenses.
The moment my life started to derail. I always thought something was wrong, I said quietly. I graduated at the top of my class. I had professors recommendations and made it to the final interviews at several major companies. And yet somehow every single one of them rejected me without explanation. I fixed my gaze on my father.
His eyes darted away. Around that time, anonymous emails were sent to the HR departments of the companies I was about to join. Emails claiming that Mandy Hansensuffers from a severe mental illness and was a troublemaker at university. What are you talking about? He tried to play dumb. IP addresses don’t lie, Dad. The emails were sent from this house and the timestamps match the hours you were in your study.
You pushed me into unemployment on purpose, didn’t you? Because if I became independent, you wouldn’t be able to keep committing fraud using my name. No, it was for your own good. And you, Mom, I said, turning to my mother. I finally understand why no matter how hard I worked, I never saved any money and why I kept failing credit card screenings.
Attorney Watson produced a set of bank statements. This is the account Mandy used to repay her student loans. She deposited money every month from her part-time jobs. However, the funds were automatically redirected, not to the loan agency, but to a hidden account in Mrs. Hansen’s name. It My mother gasped.
And yet, Mom, you kept telling me I wasn’t trying hard enough, that I should be more like Ashley. Because of you, I was blacklisted as a delinquent borrower. I couldn’t even rent a proper apartment. You destroyed my credit. You forced me to juggle three jobs and still live in fear of ending up on the streets.
My mother covered her mouth with trembling hands. My poverty wasn’t bad luck. It wasn’t a lack of effort. It was a cage carefully, deliberately built by my own parents. “And you, Ashley?” I turned to my sister. She glared back at me as if she were the victim. “Kevin’s parents are living in the vacation house, aren’t they?” “So what if they are?” Ashley replied, jutting out her chin.
Kevin’s mom and dad retired and wanted a quiet place to live, so I let them stay there. What’s wrong with that? It’s better than leaving the place empty. You let them stay? I raised an eyebrow. For free? Of course. Their family. Don’t lie. I nodded slightly to Attorney Watson. Without a word, he presented the next document.
These are the deposit records for a bank account under Ashley Thompson’s name. Attorney Watson read calmly. On the first of every month, $5,000 is transferred from the account of Kevin Thompson’s parents. The stated purpose of the transfer is rent. My grandmother spoke first. Ashley, so you not only stole Mandy’s house, but then used it to squeeze rent out of your in-laws as well.
No, that’s not it. Ashley screamed. That was a maintenance fee. It’s a huge house. It costs money to keep it up. And Kevin’s parents are rich anyway. $5,000 a month is nothing to them. That’s not the point, I said quietly, but with force. You took my house without permission and made $5,000 a month off it.
Meanwhile, I, the rightful owner, could barely afford food for the next day. You knew that? Ashley’s eyes darted away. Mom, listen. My father leaned forward, trying to intervene. Yes, maybe the way we did it was a little heavy-handed, but look at the outcome. The house is wellmaintained and Ashley’s in-laws are happy. Isn’t that far better for the family as a whole than letting Mandy live there alone? We can always give Mandy some money later.
A severance payment? No, a consolation payment and settle this. A consolation payment? My grandmother repeated in a low voice. The stem of the wine glass in her hand creaked ominously. When my granddaughter was on the brink of sleeping on the streets, you were living in luxury off her property.
And now you think you can settle it with consolation money. But mom, Mandy is still young. Hardship builds character, doesn’t it? Shut up. My grandmother’s roar echoed through the room. I wrote to Mandy every single month. I asked, “How’s the house? Are you having any trouble?” But I never received a single reply. Instead, George kept telling me, “Mandy is so mentally unstable, she can’t even write a thank you note.
” I shook my head. Not a single letter ever reached me. “Of course not,” my grandmother said coldly, turning to my parents. “Every letter I sent was addressed to this house. You claimed Mandy was mentally unstable and said you would hold on to them for her.” “And you never gave me her real address. You crushed my letters and cut off all contact from Mandy as well, didn’t you? That’s because, my mother shouted, “You seemed so busy with work overseas.
The reason my grandmother and I couldn’t stay in touch was no longer a mystery. The physical distance and the malicious wall my parents had built between us. Everything finally fell into place, revealing the full ugliness of what they’d done.” “That’s enough excuses,” I said, taking a deep breath and signaling to Attorney Watson.
“Let’s confirm the facts from a legal standpoint. Attorney Watson displayed on his tablet the so-called transfer agreement that Ashley was using as the basis for her ownership claim. “Miss Thompson, you stated earlier that this document represents a legitimate transfer from Mandy 3 years ago. Correct.” “Yes, just look at the date.
” Ashley shouted, drenched in sweat. “Indeed, it does say that. We’ll address thehandwriting shortly, but first, we conducted a digital forensic analysis of the paper itself. He pressed a button and a magnified image of the document appeared. Beneath the paper fibers, a pattern of tiny dots imperceptible to the naked eye emerged.
This is a machine identification code. Many color laser printers embed microscopic yellow dots that record the printer’s serial number and the date and time of printing. What? Ashley’s mouth fell open. After analyzing these dots, we determined that this document was printed exactly 6 months ago. That’s strange, I said with a cold smile.
Why would a contract supposedly signed 3 years ago be written on paper that was printed just 6 months ago? Then I spoke slowly and clearly. In other words, this document was fabricated 6 months ago. I looked from my father to my mother and finally to Ashley, and I can think of exactly why you suddenly needed to forge it six months ago.
My father’s face turned ashen. 6 months ago, Grandma contacted you and said, “My work is finally stabilizing. I may return home soon, didn’t she?” I continued. You panicked. Until then, you’d been illegally occupying Mandy’s house and treating it as Ashley’s based on nothing but verbal promises. But once Grandma came back and checked the property records, your lies would be exposed.
So, you hurriedly forged documents to give yourselves a legal cover. That’s not. But if you’d asked me to sign it, you would have been exposed. So Ashley copied my handwriting and forged the signature with a date from 3 years ago. Isn’t that right? My father clutched his head and groaned. I’d hit the mark.
For 3 years, they’d done whatever they pleased, counting on the fact that my grandmother wouldn’t return. But the moment they heard she might come back, they panicked and rushed to fabricate evidence. That panic was what led to their fatal mistake. Attorney Watson pressed on mercilessly. According to the handwriting analysis, this signature matches Miss Ashley Thompson’s handwriting with a 99% probability.
This constitutes clear forgery of a private document with a seal. Furthermore, Miss Thompson falsely claimed to be Mandy’s legal guardian and withdrew $1 million from Mandy’s account under the pretense of maintenance costs for the vacation home. That constitutes fraud and embezzlement. fraud. Ashley began shaking uncontrollably. Prison. This can’t be real.
Dad, say something. You’re the one who said, “As long as we backdate it, it’ll be fine.” “You idiot! Shut your mouth!” my father shouted. But it was far too late. “The police have already been notified,” Attorney Watson said calmly. “Miss Thompson, criminal charges will be filed against you immediately.” “No, no, no, no.
” Ashley grabbed her head and burst into tears. Dad told me to do it. He said Mandy’s stupid. She’ll never notice. He told me just copy her signature. I only did what I was told. What? Ashley, you’re selling out your own father. My father roared. But it’s the truth. Mom said it, too. She laughed and said Mandy will never be able to repay her student loans anyway, so we might as well put the money to good use ourselves.
Ashley, don’t say another word. My mother screamed, lunging at her. It was painfully ugly. The very people who’d been preaching about family bonds and love just moments ago were now hurling accusations at each other, desperately trying to shift the blame. My grandmother watched the spectacle with cold eyes and spoke quietly.
That’s enough. At those words, the shouting stopped dead. I’ve seen enough of your ugliness. Don’t stain this table any further. She turned to attorney Watson. Mr. Watson, the revision to my will is complete. Correct. Yes, Mrs. Hansen. Attorney Watson produced a new set of documents. This is the latest will.
It fully revokes the inheritance rights of George Hansen, Sandra Hansen, and Ashley Thompson, as well as Ashley Thompson’s spouse and designates Miss Mandy Hansen as the sole heir to the entire estate. The entire estate? My parents shouted in unison. Mom, please wait. Anything but that. We’re sorry.
We’ve reflected on our actions. Please. Gone was any trace of pride. Only a man clinging desperately to money. My mother followed suit. I’m sorry, Mom. I had a moment of weakness. I’ll never do it again. Please reconsider. From above them, my grandmother replied in an icy voice. If you want to apologize, do it to Mandy. She’s the victim, not me.
My parents and Ashley’s eyes all turned to me at once, pleading, fawning, and underneath it all that same entitled assumption. We’re family, so she’ll forgive us. I slowly lifted my wine glass and took a sip. Then I smiled sweetly. No, I don’t possess mercy. The only thing I have for you is an invoice. I accepted the final document from Attorney Watson.
This is a demand for restitution of unjust enrichment over the past 3 years along with damages for emotional distress. The total amount due is $2 million. If payment is not made by tomorrow, criminal prosecution willproceed immediately. $2 million? My father screamed. There’s no way we have that kind of money. Then sell what you do have, I said coldly.
Your house, your cars, your jewelry, and that house Kevin’s parents are living in. You’ll vacate it immediately. No. Ashley collapsed to the floor, kicking Kevin’s mom and dad out. If I do that, he’ll divorce me. That’s none of my concern. That’s your problem, Ashley. I cut her off coldly.
When I lost my job and my credit was destroyed, did any of you worry about me? No. You all mocked me. Now it’s your turn to taste that same misery. At that moment, a heavy knock sounded at the dining room door, and two officers wearing sheriff’s badges entered. Ashley Thompson, please come with us to the station. No, help me. I didn’t do anything wrong.
Ashley screamed as she was dragged away. Next, my parents, still in shock, were placed in handcuffs as well. Mandy, I’m sorry, Mandy. My mother sobbed, looking at me through tears. I was wrong. Please, please drop the charges. Goodbye, Mom,” I said without looking away. “Count the wrinkles on your face in prison. You’ll have plenty of time.
” As the police sirens faded into the distance, only my grandmother, attorney Watson, and I remained in the vast dining room. I let out a long breath. It wasn’t exhaustion. It was relief, as if a curse had finally been lifted. “It’s over, Grandma.” “Yes, it is,” she said gently, pulling me into an embrace.
No, actually that’s not quite right. This is where it begins. Your real life. One year has passed since that night. I’m standing now on the wooden deck of Lakeside Manor. This place is truly mine. Ashley, her husband, and his parents were forcibly evicted within 72 hours of that night. Her in-laws claimed they had been told the house belonged to their daughter-in-law and that they were victims, too.
However, because they had lived there knowing the rent was suspiciously low and the contract was flawed, they were questioned as potential accompllices. Ashley was sentenced to 3 years in prison and is currently incarcerated. She divorced Kevin and was completely bankrupted by damages and legal fees. My parents lost all social credibility and were cut off by relatives across the board.
My father’s company went bankrupt and I hear they’re now scraping by in a small apartment. But I don’t even know their contact information, nor do I want to. As for me, I started a new business in this quiet home. Online consulting and financial planning and victim support. When I began sharing my own harrowing experiences, the response was overwhelming.
Before I knew it, my schedule was booked months in advance, and my income grew to dozens of times what I made back when I was juggling three jobs. I no longer depend on anyone. I’ve achieved complete financial independence. On weekends, my grandmother comes to stay here, and we sit by the fireplace, talking and laughing as if reclaiming the three years that were stolen from us.
One day, gazing calmly out over the lake, she said, “You didn’t just reclaim the future that was taken from you. Through integrity and courage, you built an even brighter one.” “This is my home, the place I protect, the place I love.” “I’m happy, Grandma,” I said from the bottom of my heart.
