I Heard My Aunt's Plan to Get My Father's Inheritance and Made Her Regret It

When Becca’s father, Jonah, is on a steady decline, after being diagnosed with Stage 4 Leukemia, she tries to rally her family to see him. But when her Aunt learns of Jonah’s final wishes — she tries her hardest to get everything he has.

Since I was twelve, it's just been my father and I — my mom had passed away when I was nine. Now, at nineteen, death hung imminent in the air.

My father, Jonah, was diagnosed with Stage 4 Leukemia, and his health continued to decline every day. He tried his best to keep a positive outlook on everything, but I knew that he was just trying to be strong for me.

"Come on, Becca," he would say. "I'm going to be just fine! And on the day that I’m not, I’ll walk beside you as a ghost."

Usually, he would dissolve into laughter until he couldn't take it anymore.

But then, a dark cloud in the form of my Aunt Kayla entered.

Her sudden appearance, cloaked in false concern, stirred suspicion in me. Kayla had been absent for most of my life — my last memory of her had been at my tenth birthday, when she gave me two pairs of socks as a present.

When my father was first diagnosed, he reached out to Kayla, but she didn't bother to return his calls.

But a few weeks ago, we had a family meeting — my father wanted to talk to his siblings about his final wishes. In his will, he left everything to me.

"Everything will go to Becca," he said, sipping on some weak tea. "But I need to know that you will watch over her."

My uncles both agreed and promised to keep an eye out for me.

"Don't worry, Jonah," Uncle Dave said. "Becca will be cared for."

Kayla, on the other hand, didn’t show up. But I knew that someone had told her about the outcome of my father’s will.

She phoned me one afternoon on our landline.

"The fact that you’re Jonah's daughter doesn't give you the right to take everything!" she screeched through the phone, her anger palpable.

"Aunt Kayla," I said. "I don’t know what to tell you, except maybe, you should come and visit Dad. He's on a steady decline now."

Kayla didn’t reply. Instead, she assumed she put her phone down. But little did she know, the call hadn't ended. I kept the phone pressed to my ear, listening in silence.

"Who does that little brat think she is, Gordan?" she said, talking to her husband.

I grabbed my mobile and pressed record — knowing Kayla, there were a lot more insults to come.

"Listen, I know how to get Jonah to change his will. I'll visit him tomorrow and I'll convince him. I'm his only sister. He has to take care of me, too."

My hands shook as I saved the recording.

The following day, Kayla arrived at home with a box of cookies, which she pushed into my hands.

"Make some coffee, will you?" she demanded, as she went into the living room that had been converted into a larger bedroom for my father.

"Jonah!" she said, trying to hug him.

I listened to her words while I made the coffee, my phone burning into my back pocket — the recording ready to be played.

Kayla continued to coerce my father into changing his will. She dropped her voice to a whisper, even though I could still hear her.

"My business, Jonah," she said. "It's not doing so well. I’m struggling. I need to know that when you’re gone, you'll still look out for your little sister."

"Kayla," my father said. "I'll see what I can do."

Kayla grabbed onto his hand.

I took the coffee and cookies into the living room, and helped my father take his medication. He looked impossibly happy that Kayla had visited.

"Dad," I said. "Can I play a recording for you?"

He nodded weakly, helping himself to a cookie.

With a flick of my finger, Kayla's voice filled the room. Her façade crumbled before our eyes, exposing her deceit.

My father gasped.

"Now you won't even get what I wanted to leave behind for you, Kayla," he said firmly, his voice tinged with sadness. "Leave and don’t come back."

"What were you going to leave me? Jonah? What was it?" she asked frantically.

My father waved his hand, signaling me to lead her away.

As Kayla retreated into the shadows, I stood by my father's side.

Now, it’s been six months since my father passed on. My Uncle Dave continues to check on me, often driving me to my father's grave to leave fresh flowers. I haven't spoken to Aunt Kayla, and she didn't come to the funeral either.

"You're better off, kid," Uncle Dave said, when we spoke about Kayla.

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