At Dinner, My Sister Drenched Me In Wine, Shouting: “You Have Until Sunrise To Get Out Of My House!” My Parents Cheered Her On. I Just Smiled, Dropped A Key On The Table, And Replied: “THEN YOU HAVE 60 SECONDS…”

I pulled out my phone, scrolling to the photos I’d taken of the will.

“Grandmother Eleanor left me in charge of her entire estate. All three point two million dollars of it.”

The color drained from their faces simultaneously. My father, Robert, half rose from his chair, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

“That’s impossible,” Lauren sputtered, wine bottle still clutched in her white-knuckled grip. “Grandma loved me best. She always said so.”

“She told you what you wanted to hear,” I replied calmly. “Just like she told you she loved that awful pottery you made in college. Remember how she displayed it prominently whenever you visited? She threw it in the garbage the minute you left. I know because I’m the one she called to come fish it out before your next visit.”

The truth hung heavy in the air.

All those years, I’d been Eleanor’s secret keeper, her quiet companion during the long afternoons when the rest of the family was “too busy” to visit. I’d been the one who took her to doctor’s appointments, who helped her sort through old photographs, who listened to her stories about growing up during the Depression.

“But here’s the truly interesting part,” I continued, standing up slowly, wine-soaked hair sticking to my neck. “The will has a very specific clause. Any family member who shows cruelty or hostility toward me forfeits their share entirely. And you, dear sister, just assaulted me with a wine bottle while our parents cheered you on.”

Lauren’s face cycled through emotions like a broken slot machine—disbelief, rage, fear, and back to rage again.

“You’re lying. You have to be lying.”

“Call Mr. Whitman yourself,” I said, pulling out his business card and sliding it across the table. “His office opens at eight tomorrow morning—though I should mention he’s already been thoroughly briefed on tonight’s events.”

My mother found her voice, shrill and accusatory.

“Jenna Marie, how dare you keep this from us? We’re your family.”

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