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

I was so wrong.

When Dad died, everything that once gave me support and stability broke. It felt like the ground had been pulled away from under my feet and I had plunged into the unknown. Charlotte hardly seemed to mourn. At the funeral, she seemed fleeting and disinterested – as if she didn’t want to feel the severity of the loss. It was just everything … too much for them, I suppose.

Two weeks later, we went to the lawyer. Charlotte sat across from me, in an elegant costume, her facial expression almost bored while she looked at her nails. The lawyer handled some documents, cleared his throat and began to read Father’s will.

I sat there, stiff as if petrified, my hands firmly clenched in my lap. I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.