My sister threw me out of the house after our father died

Charlotte owned the house, but also a huge mountain of debt. And she had just kicked out the only person she could have saved from total ruin.

A few days later Charlotte called, her voice shaking in despair. “You knew, didn’t you?” she swept. “You have the money, right?”

I smiled gently and turned my father’s watch on my wrist. “I might have the money,” I said, “but we don’t have the best shared history, do we?”

She was silent. “You have to help me,” she begged.

I leaned back and enjoyed the moment. “I would have helped you, Charlotte. If you’d been nicer to me. Maybe I would feel bad.”

I’ve put on.