When my late father’s will tied an inheritance to staying married for five years, I thought I could handle it. But my husband’s affair and my brother’s manipulations shattered everything.
The lawyer read the will, and I froze. The condition: My brother and I had to stay married for five years to inherit. If either of us divorced, we forfeited our share.
My brother, Henry, smirked with his wife Sarah at his side. Ted, my husband, looked guilty. I’d discovered his affair months earlier, and this was the final blow.
Henry, knowing more than he let on, taunted me: “Think you can keep it together?”
The next weeks were suffocating. Ted and I barely spoke. Most nights, I stared at the farm—my father’s legacy—while Henry lived irresponsibly, spending money and partying.
Then, Henry’s marriage fell apart. He moved into the guest house and mocked me: “You win. My marriage ended, but yours is still standing.” Guilt overwhelmed me, and I let him stay.
Ted and I barely spoke, and I filed for divorce. He agreed quietly, admitting the marriage was already over.
The divorce was quick, and I left Ted the house. I moved to the farm, my supposed fresh start. But when I arrived, Henry was there, champagne in hand, surrounded by friends. His grin mocked me.
“You thought I divorced Sarah for real?” he sneered. He’d staged everything with Sarah’s help, manipulating me into staying in my marriage.
I felt betrayed. “You used me,” I whispered.
“Don’t take it personally,” he replied. “It’s just business.”
Later, Henry left, and I wandered the house. In the library, I found a letter from my father, reminding me that inheritance was more than possessions—it was about what you built around you. He trusted me to see past the lies and urged me to help Henry.
I called the lawyer. “Is it true? There’s another clause?”
“Yes. The farm is yours, Jen.”
Weeks later, Henry returned, broke and humbled. I let him stay but made him work for it. Slowly, he changed. He met a woman who brought out the best in him.
One evening, he admitted, “You were always the better one, Jen.”
I smiled. “We both are. That’s what Dad wanted.”