My stepdad, Mark, passed away three weeks ago (from a sudden heart attack at 56). She never considered me her daughter, she never told me “I love you”. I can count on fingers on one hand the times he’s hugged me. I was my mom’s first marriage daughter so I understood. When I was five years old, my mother married Mark, and a year later, my stepsister, Ava, was born. To him, she was his princess. Her face would light up every time she walked into a room.
His death shocked me more than I expected. I realized I’d always wanted something more. A bond. Just once, hear him say, “I love you, daughter.”
Then came THE TESTAMENT.
Reunited at his lawyer’s office: me, my mom, Ava and some distant relatives. I didn’t expect anything. Perhaps something symbolic. Maybe nothing at all.
The lawyer opened the envelope.
“Ava and my wife, Marie, I’m leaving $5,000 each.”
Silence.
Ava had her jaw dropped. My mom let out a choking scream like she got hit.
“And to my stepdaughter, Lucy, I leave the rest of my estate, valued at approximately $640,000, including the house, savings and investments.”
The room was run out of air.
My mom looked ahead, blinking. Then he whispered:
“So HE KNEW.”
He stood up, grabbed Ava by the arm and walked away without saying anything else.
I didn’t move. I was paralyzed and confused. WHY ME ?
So the lawyer handed me a second envelope.
“He left you a letter.”
I opened it and started reading it ⬇️