My Late Father’s Will Hinged on Five Years of Marriage, but My Husband’s Secret Could Ruin Everything – Story of the Day

When my late father’s will revealed an inheritance tied to staying married for five years, I thought I could manage. But my husband’s secret and my brother’s schemes shattered everything I believed.

When the lawyer read the will, an uneasy weight settled over me. The room felt thick, almost as if the air had changed, making it hard to breathe. Raindrops tapped steadily against the window, mirroring the thumping of my heart.

The lawyer continued, his voice blending into the background as he listed the assets.

Among them were “farm…house…bank accounts…watch collection…” Then came the condition.

This condition would turn my life upside down.

“To my children, Jen and Henry, on condition that both remain married for the next five years. Any divorce during this period forfeits a party’s share, granting the entire estate to the other.”

Henry leaned back, nonchalant and content, drumming his fingers on the chair, a smirk on his face. Sarah, his wife, sat close, appearing confident and untroubled. They seemed like a pair undaunted by this challenge.

I turned to Ted, my husband. He was tense, staring ahead, his jaw set. His guilty look revealed more than he realized.

I had discovered his affair months ago—a secret I’d chosen to ignore until now.

Leaving the office, Henry caught up with me.

“Dad wanted us to play nice, huh, Jen? Not that it bothers me. Sarah and I are rock solid. But you…”

He let the thought dangle, his smirk widening. Henry knew about Ted’s affair; he had hinted months before, mentioning he’d seen Ted at a hotel with his secretary.

His knowing grin felt like salt in a wound. “Think you can keep it together?”

I swallowed my retort. “Don’t you have smugness to spread elsewhere, Henry?”

He chuckled, tipping an imaginary hat. “Touché. Good luck.”

His words cut deeper than I wanted to admit, and thus began our tense waiting game.

Life at home felt as if I were walking on a tightrope over a canyon. Ted and I shared cold meals and fewer words.

“Dinner’s on the stove,” I would mumble.

He would nod without meeting my eyes. “Thanks,” he would say, absorbed in his phone.

The silence was heavy and suffocating. Ted was as trapped as I was, bound by my father’s condition.

In those moments, I would stare out at the farm, a place filled with cherished memories. My father had taught me the value of hard work and love for this land.

Henry, however, cared little for it. He squandered money, entertained wild parties, and whisked Sarah off on luxury vacations.

The thought of him inheriting the farm was unbearable and left me seething.

One morning, my grip on my coffee mug tightened, until it cracked.

“Are you okay?” Ted asked, his attention finally diverted.

“Fine,” I spat, more harshly than intended.

He withdrew, as usual.

Meanwhile, Henry seemed at ease. He phoned multiple times, his tone lighter than mine liked.

“Just checking in. How’s Ted?”

“The same,” I answered curtly.

To my surprise, he invited us for dinner at his place.

Arriving at Henry’s home felt surreal. Everything was perfectly arranged, with Sarah acting the part of a hostess, yet her smile seemed overly rehearsed.

During dinner, Henry bragged about an upcoming “work” trip abroad.

“Paris again,” he boasted. “Meetings, dinners. The usual.” He leaned back, satisfied.

But Sarah erupted mid-meal, slamming her fork onto her plate.

“Enough! It’s not about work!” she cried. “It’s another excuse to escape me!”

With the room sealed in silence, she left abruptly, and the chair spun behind her. Henry sighed dramatically as if he’d anticipated it.

Later that night, he appeared on my doorstep, holding a folder.

“Well, Jen,” he said, almost enjoying the irony. “You win. My marriage is over, but yours is intact.”

His defeated expression almost roused sympathy.

“Sarah kicked me out,” he confessed, his voice edged with defeat.

Despite our rocky past, I could not leave him out in the cold, so I settled him in the guest house.

As he left, a daunting question loomed: Did I truly want to win this?

***

Even with Henry installed in the guest house, he seemed insufferably comfortable. I couldn’t ask him to leave; after all, he was my brother, regardless of our painful history.

“Morning, sis!” he hollered one day, balancing a coffee cup in hand. “This place is lovely. Wouldn’t a hot tub be perfect?”

“Henry, you’re not staying forever,” I retorted, wiping my hands on a towel, exasperated by his casual presence.

“Who said forever?” he grinned, carefree. “Just sorting things out.”

Watching him carry on made my stomach churn, especially knowing Ted and I were a whisper away from silence.

One day, after Ted’s absence extended into dawn, I awaited him in the kitchen. He entered, his weariness palpable.

“We need to talk,” I declared, my tone icy.

Ted paused, then without argument, sat at the table.

“I’m filing for a divorce. And don’t bother with denial. I’m aware of your affair.”

“I won’t dispute it,” he confessed. “You deserve more.”

Surprised by his candid admission, I wondered aloud, “That’s it? No excuse? No attempt to mend this?”

He quietly shook his head. “What’s left to save? We both knew it. This was over long ago.”

***

The divorce proceedings blurred past swiftly. I surrendered the house, furniture, and fragments of a life reduced to mere memories.

I packed up and relocated to the farm, craving a refuge amidst change. Yet, upon arrival, my heart sank.

Henry was there, champagne in hand, among laughing spectators, appearing victorious.

Henry’s grin only grew as he waved his glass. “You really thought I divorced Sarah? That we’d squander it all?”

“You knew about Ted,” I whispered, the realization startling.

“Indeed, Sarah saw him with his secretary. We thought a nudge was needed,” Henry admitted smoothly.

“A whole staged act?!”

He shrugged, his smile unrelenting. “You fell right into place, predictable sister.”

Rage bubbled inside. “You used me.”

“Nothing personal, Jen. It’s business. Now, it’s mine.”

My chest tightened. “Henry…”

He waved dismissively. “The farm’s tiresome. Stay, if you like.”

In that crushing moment, I realized I had lost everything dear.

***

Briefly, Henry’s joy was unchecked, but soon he vanished, leaving silence as my companion. I roamed through the house, memories whispering as I touched familiar items: furniture, photographs, and books my father cherished.

In the library, glancing at old books, my father’s voice echoed, reminding me of hidden knowledge on the top shelf.

I reached up, and as I opened an old volume, an envelope with my name tumbled out.

“What next, Dad?” I murmured, tears brimming, the letter cradled in trembling hands.

“Jen, dearest, Inheritance exceeds possessions. It’s what you construct around you. I trust you’ll discern wisely. The estate belongs to one courageous to discard illusions for truth’s sake. I was aware of both your and Henry’s marital challenges, but trust you to pierce through deception. If the farm is yours henceforth, don’t desert your brother. He deserves redemption. Love, Dad”

Stunned, I called the lawyer. “Is there another clause?”

“Indeed. The farm is yours, Jen.”

***

Weeks fluttered by. Anger simmered, but my father’s counsel resided within me. Henry wasn’t solely an adversary; he was family. When he returned, humbled and destitute, I opened the door.

“Spare me,” I greeted, arms crossed. “You need aid.”

Henry hung his head, drenched in remorse. “You were right. I faltered. But, Jen, I’m lost otherwise.”

I sighed. “You can stay, Henry. But you’ll earn your keep daily.”

He agreed eagerly. “Deal. Thanks, Jen.”

Amidst tensions, change emerged. Henry toiled diligently, shocking me. He met Lyra, a genuine spirit unveiling his better side.

As we watched the sunset, Henry smiled.

“You were always better, Jen.”

I laughed. “We both are, Henry. That’s what Dad intended.”

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