After My Parents Died, My Aunt Took My Inheritance and Gave Me a Mattress on the Floor – Years Later, She Knocked on My Door

“Why do you keep your bills in a folder instead of a binder?”

One afternoon, I came home to find her sitting at my desk. My desk.

She had opened my mail.

“What are you doing?” I snapped.

“I’m helping.

You ignore important things.”

“You don’t touch my paperwork. Ever.”

She sighed as if I were being difficult. “If you had a wife, she’d handle this.”

“That’s because you don’t know what you need.”

That night, I found her in the hallway closet.

The one place I’d told her not to touch. She was holding a box. My box.

“What’s that?” she asked, already lifting the lid.

Inside were the few things I’d saved.

Old photos. A scarf that still smelled faintly like my mom. And her recipe notebook.

Linda picked it up.

“Oh,” she said. “You still have this.”

“Give it back.”

She flipped through the pages, unimpressed.

“She really thought she was special, didn’t she?”

“You know, your mother had more than recipes.”

“What does that mean?”

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