Even though I told her not to, my mom used my inheritance, so I decided to teach her a lesson. Am I right to get back at her?
Among the mess in an old closet, I found a letter that kept a secret gift from my dad that was meant to help me reach my goals. However, this unexpected gift quickly turned into a family argument, putting my relationships to the test and making me think about how much it really costs to protect what is rightfully mine.
Sometimes, life throws us curveballs. When I was seventeen, Violet and I were caught off guard by one of these unexpected turns. On what seemed like a normal afternoon, I was going through some old boxes in the attic when it all began.
When I touched an old, yellow paper, it turned pale. A promise that would not change was made and signed. It made my heart skip a beat when I saw my name written on it in my dad’s clear handwriting. His death ten years ago left a mess of unspoken words and unmet feelings. He was there, though, in a piece that came from the past.
That letter came as a surprise and made my hurting heart feel better. For example, one of Dad’s uncles was a very successful businessman, and he left him a large amount of money.
Before he was diagnosed with cancer, my dad set up a trust fund for me so that he could use the money to pay for all of his medical bills and more. In his message, when he said he wanted to make sure my future, the words were so full of love and hope that they made me cry.
The tone of the letter quickly changed, though, to one of serious advice. Dad begged me to be careful with the money and only use it for school and to buy a house—something solid and stable that wouldn’t be taken away by some bad luck. He told me that he wanted me to have a life full of adventures that he never got to have. I could feel his presence and direction.
However, what I found would not stay a secret for long. I was crying as I read the letter again when my mum came in. She became too curious. Her shock and, dare I say it, her hunger grew as she held the letter in her hands and read it word for word.
In a whisper, she gave me back the letter and said, “I had no idea.” But her eyes were looking different, and a new plan was starting to crystallise.
Mom insisted that I go to the lawyer’s meeting with her the next day because she thought it was best for me. Nevertheless, I knew this. That’s when truth hit me: in Mr. Hargrove’s cold, clinical office as a family lawyer. That was real money, and there was a lot of it.
Mom was so excited that night over dinner that she couldn’t keep it together. The moment she told my stepdad Joel about the money, the subject became very touchy. Mom told them in great detail how the bequest would help them with their money issues. As Joel listened carefully, his eyes lit up with options. Joel is a man who is full of them.
When Mom told him how she planned to spend the money, he cautiously said, “But it’s Violet’s.”
Mom replied, “Violet will understand,” and she meant it. “The relatives are the reason.” Honey, don’t you think she wants to help her siblings?”
Because I wouldn’t give them the money they asked for, my mother took over as my financial boss. I was still a child. They told me the money was enough for all of us and asked me to divide it between them, my step-siblings, and me. My mum already had $20,000 set aside for kitchen improvements and clothes for my step-siblings, saying it was a family duty.
When they talked about what to do with the rest, it turned into a plan that included ignoring my wishes. Their actions and demands crushed me. It was silly to waste money on wish lists and small things when it was meant to be my lifeline and my link to a father I barely remembered.
As soon as I found out, I was furious, but my mom made me share. Because I couldn’t take it any longer, I chose to teach my mom and her husband a lesson. To get justice, I wrote to Lydia, my paternal grandma, because I knew she would understand. I was sad, angry, and full of grief.
The next day, I found myself at her entry, feeling a mix of different emotions. Grandma was a bright spot in the world, with her sharp eyes and gentle touch. As we sat in her living room, surrounded by pictures of better times, I told her everything on my mind. I told her everything, even how my mom had been acting and how I was afraid of losing my dad, who was the only real person I got along with.
As Grandma Lydia listened, she looked like she was torn between relief and pain. When I was done, she grabbed my hands and said, “Violet, help us fix this.” What would have made your dad happy is if we had.
Like she said she would, Grandma Lydia didn’t waste any time. To protect my fortune, Mom filed for divorce a few days later, which was the right thing to do. The legal fight that followed was nasty and ended quickly.
It was very clear in court that my mom and Joel went too far when they used my trust fund as their own emergency fund. It was clear what the judge thought: they had to give back all the money they had taken.
Things went wrong right away and were felt. My mother was so angry that her words were as sharp as knives. With the same feeling of humiliation as me, she yelled, “How could you do this to your own family?”
From her point of view, I was the bad guy—the selfish daughter who had put money ahead of family. That night, I was told to leave and go stay with my grandmother to stay safe. She had the nerve to help me.
I moved in with Grandma Lydia and felt safe knowing that my dad always wanted the best for me and that she would always be there for me. I tried to enjoy this new part of my life, but I couldn’t help but wonder: Was it worth it?
Right now I’m sitting in my grandmother’s kitchen, enjoying the early morning sun and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. But I can’t help but wonder if I made the right choice. Yes, the trust fund was officially mine. It was my dad’s farewell gift, meant to protect my future. But by getting it, I made my mother, who raised me, angry, even though she was flawed.
We have an awful gap between us that has grown wider because of lawsuits and hurtful comments that can’t be taken back. My brothers are missed, even though they didn’t start the war they were just watching. Now Joel, who is calm, strong, and wise in real life, is another person I have hurt in my search for justice.
Dear Readers, I keep finding my way to you. Why do you think that? Was it okay of me to punish my dad and mother in such a harsh way? Was it worth it to lose my family in the fight for my inheritance? Could I have gone in a different direction that might have led to a different kind of resolution?
I’m having a hard time with the complicated parts of family, loyalty, and the heavy responsibility of leaving a legacy. It’s leaving me with more questions than solutions. One thing is for sure, though: the fights we have inside our hearts are often the hardest ones.
