Emma drove slowly through the familiar streets of her hometown. A decade in London had dulled many memories. She found her mothers terraced house using the satnav.
The front door swung open before Emma could knock. Her mother stood thereolder, wearier. “Took you long enough,” Margaret said tersely. “Come in.”
Emma stepped inside. Teenagers crowded the narrow hallwayher stepbrother and stepsister eyed her with undisguised curiosity.
“Kids, this is Emma,” their mother announced. “Your sister.”
A girl of about fourteen gave Emma an open once-overthe designer coat, the Mulberry handbag, the polished leather shoes, all marking her as a city success.
“Shes got a posh car,” the girl whispered to her brother.
“Mind your tongue, Lily,” their mother snapped.
A middle-aged man emerged from the kitchenthe stepfather, giving Emma a silent nod. His gaze lingered on her Rolex.
The sitting room held a faded sofa and threadbare armchairs. The telly looked like it had seen better days. Emma sat, taking it all in.
“Not exactly Buckingham Palace, is it?” her mother remarked.
Emma nodded.
“David works as a site foreman,” Margaret went on. “Wages arent what they used to be. And the kids need things.”
The teenage boy sat glued to his cracked phone screen. Lily tugged at the frayed cuff of her jumper.
“Mum, when am I getting new trainers?” she whined. “Everyone at school has decent ones, and Im stuck with these.”
“Not now, Lily,” her mother hissed.
Emma stayed quiet as the tension thickened.
“Long trip?” the stepfather asked.
“A bit,” Emma admitted.
“Job in London treating you well?” her mother probed.
“Yes, fine.”
“I heard your father left you the business,” Margaret ventured carefully. “Must be doing alright?”
Emma sighed. Yesterday, shed met the company director. The scale stunned herturnover in the tens of millions.
“Yes, its doing well,” she said.
David exchanged a glance with his wife. Something sharp flickered in their eyes.
“Emma, a word?” her mother asked. “In private.”
They retreated to the bedroom. Margaret shut the door.
“Love, you see how things are,” she began quietly. “Lily needs maths tutoring. Oliver wants coding lessons. Davids firms making redundancies. Were at our wits end. And now youve come into all this…”
“Mum, Ive only just arrived,” Emma said gently. “Lets give Dad a proper send-off first.”
“Of course,” Margaret agreed. “But familys family. Your father always said blood sticks together.”
Emma nodded. Arguing was pointless.
Back in the sitting room, she interrupted a hushed discussion. David was murmuring to the children. They fell silent when she entered.
“Staying long?” the stepfather asked.
“Not sure. Ive Dads affairs to sort.”
“Big house, is it?” Lily blurted.
“Lily!” her mother scolded.
“What? Just asking,” the girl shrugged.
Oliver finally looked up from his phone. “Your dad had that construction firm, yeah? Must be minted, running that.”
Emma studied themtheir eyes fixed on her wealth. No one asked how she grieved. No one cared about her plans.
“Right, Ill check into a hotel,” she said, standing.
“What hotel?” her mother protested. “Youre home! Stay here.”
“No, Mum. Id rather have some space.”
Margaret hugged her tightly at the door. “Think on what I said. Family first.”
Emma returned to the hotel heavy-hearted. Her mothers words gnawed at her. The next day, she buried her father. The service was simple. Her mothers family kept their distance.
Afterward, Margaret approached. “Come for dinner tomorrow. Auntie Joan and Uncle Geoff are coming. Family matters to discuss.”
Emma agreedrefusal wouldve been awkward.
The following evening, relatives packed the small dining room. The air was thick. Lily and Oliver watched Emma sideways.
“Sit, love,” her mother gestured.
Auntie Joan spoke first. “Your dad was a fair man. Family meant everything to him.”
Uncle Geoff nodded. “John always said kin should look after kin.”
“Wheres this going?” Emma asked carefully.
David cleared his throat. “Youve a fortune now. These two are struggling.”
“Aint right,” Joan added. “One child rolling in it, the others scraping by.”
Emma stiffened.
“We think,” Margaret said, “you should share. Half to Lily and Oliver at least.”
“Excuse me?” Emma stared.
“Whats wrong with that?” David shrugged. “A good daughter wouldnt leave family wanting.”
“Your father wouldve wanted you to share,” Margaret said coldly.
Lilys eyes shone with hope. Oliver waited, jaw clenched.
“Its family duty,” Joan pressed. “You were in London ten years, never lifted a finger. Nows your chance.”
“Fairs fair,” Geoff agreed. “Kids deserve equal shares.”
Emma scanned their expectant faces.
“I dont owe anyone anything,” she said quietly.
“How can you say that?” Margaret exploded. “Were your blood!”
“If Dad wanted it divided, hed have written it,” Emma said. “He never mentioned you. Never said he loved you. And why would he? You were strangers. Im his only child.”
Margaret turned scarlet.
“So thats it? Youll turn your back?”
“Not turning my back”
“Prove it!” her mother cut in. “Give them their due!”
David leaned forward. “Be reasonable. Youve millions. Were barely keeping the lights on.”
“Lilys applying to uni,” Joan said. “No money for tuition.”
“Oliver needs a proper laptop,” Geoff added.
Emma saw their pleading starespart hope, part resentment.
“Choose,” Margaret hissed. “Share the inheritance, or lose your family forever.”
Silence. Emma stood.
“No.”
Margarets chair clattered to the floor. “Have you no heart? Look at them!”
“Selfish cow!” Joan shrieked. “Ten years gone, couldnt even visit for my birthday!”
“Stone-cold,” David muttered, disgusted. “Not an ounce of decency left.”
Lily burst into tears. “We trusted you!”
Olivers fists clenched. “You rolled up in a Bentley! Your handbag costs more than our rent! And we cant even afford proper shoes!”
“Lads right,” David said. “Youre living large while were on the breadline.”
Emma moved to leave, but Margaret blocked her. “Walk out now, youre dead to me! No daughter of mine!”
“Ill tell the whole village!” Joan threatened. “Everyonell know you abandoned your kin!”
“Shop, doctors, pubtheyll all hear!” Margaret spat.
“And your businessll suffer,” David warned. “Ive mates in councils. Well make your life hell.”
“Just go!” Lily sobbed. “We dont need you!”
“Disgrace!” Geoff roared. “Your fathers spinning in his grave!”
Emma pushed past. The shouts chased her:
“I curse you!” Margaret wailed. “May you die alone!”
“Youll regret this!” Joan screeched.
The door slammed. Still, their voices seeped through.
A year later, Emma lived in her fathers country house. New locks, fresh paint. The firm thrivednew contracts, steady growth. She built homes, created jobs. Her fathers legacy flourished.
She remembered why her parents split. Dad was starting the business, broke. Mum left for David, who had steady work then. Dad never recovered from the betrayal. He poured everything into Emmaraised her, sent her to London, helped her succeed. Never mentioned Mums new family.
Now Margaret pretended the past didnt existand demanded a slice of what Dad built. But Emma wouldnt dismantle his lifes work.
Evenings, she sat in Dads wingback chair, flipping through old photos. No regrets. The relatives stopped calling. Ties severed. But shed honoured her fathers trust.
Money reveals true colours. Not all blood runs deep.
