When I saw my brother driving a shiny red convertible, I knew something was wrong. I had no idea that car was tied to a betrayal I never expected — and a plan Nana made long before she passed away.
My name is Willow. I’m 26, and I’ve been living far from home for four years. Honestly, it was the best choice I ever made: to leave my family and all the hurt behind.
I never really fit in with them. My parents always picked my older brother, Peregrine, over me. People called him Perry, and he was their star. Growing up, I was just… there. The “extra,” Nana would tease, but she always said it with a kind smile.
That’s part of why I left. That, and Finn — my boyfriend. He told me it was time to live for myself, to step out of my family’s shadow.
We loaded up our small car, and I moved to the city with him, leaving behind my parents, Perry, and all those old memories.
“Finn, I just couldn’t stay there anymore,” I told him one night at dinner. I can still see him smiling across the table, grabbing my hand.
“You don’t need to say it again, Willow. You did the right thing,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze. “You deserve better than being ignored.”
Even after four years away, I barely talked to my family. Phone calls stopped, and texts were rare and short. My parents? They didn’t seem to care. It was like I’d vanished from their lives. The only one who stayed close was Nana.
She was the one person who made me feel special. When I was little, she’d slip me chocolate bars when Mom wasn’t looking or call me at night just to hear about my day.
Nana didn’t mind if my stories were boring or if I felt like a mess. She just listened.
Then, one day, I found out she died. By accident. No call, no text, nothing. Can you believe it? I was scrolling through Facebook and saw a post from an old family friend. Nana’s picture with a date and “Rest in Peace.”
I couldn’t breathe. I stared at my phone, trying to understand, but it didn’t make sense. My heart felt like it was breaking.
I dropped my phone on the table, stood up, and said, “Nana’s gone.”
Finn looked up from the couch. “What? What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She died. Nobody told me.” Tears stung my eyes, but it wasn’t just sadness—it was anger, maybe even betrayal. “How could they not tell me?”
Finn jumped up and hugged me, but it didn’t help. Why didn’t my parents call? Or Perry? Nothing.
I booked a flight home that night.
I didn’t care what it took — I had to see Nana’s grave. I had to say goodbye my own way. The next morning, I was walking through my hometown, a place I hadn’t been to in years, a place I’d worked so hard to leave. Everything looked the same, except for one thing.
As I stood on a street corner near the cemetery, I saw something that stopped me cold. My brother, Perry, driving by in a shiny red convertible.
Perry? The guy who worked as a cashier and could barely pay his bills? He was in a car that looked like it cost more than everything he had.
My stomach twisted. Something wasn’t right.
Later that day, I stood by Nana’s grave, the soft sound of trees all around. The dirt was still fresh, and I felt a heavy knot inside. Nana was really gone. I couldn’t say goodbye properly or tell her how much she meant to me.
Finding out about her death on Facebook hurt like a fresh wound.
As I knelt by the grave, I heard footsteps. I looked up and saw Mr. Hawthorne, Nana’s best friend. He was a kind, older man who always helped Nana with whatever she needed. His face was sad as he walked over.
“Willow, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, standing next to me. “Your Nana… she was one of a kind.”
I swallowed hard, holding back tears. “She really was. I just wish I had more time with her.”
He nodded, his eyes far away. Then, after a quiet moment, he looked at me and asked, “Did you get the $20,000 she left you?”
I froze, shocked. “The… what?”
Mr. Hawthorne’s face changed. “Your Nana. She wrote in her will that she left you $20,000. I thought you knew.”
My heart sank. That red convertible Perry was driving suddenly made sense. Anger burned inside me. “No,” I said, standing up, hands clenched. “I didn’t know.”
Mr. Hawthorne’s face went pale. “Oh, Willow, I’m so sorry.”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. I had to get to Perry’s trailer. Right now.
I rushed back to my car, my mind spinning. Perry, who could never keep a steady job, was driving a fancy car, and I didn’t even question it. Of course, it was my money. The money Nana left me — the one person who cared about me — and he took it without a care.
When I got to Perry’s trailer, I was ready to yell. But what I saw stopped me. The red convertible was in the driveway, completely wrecked—front bumper smashed, windshield broken, tires flat. It looked like a bad crash.
And there, in the doorway of his run-down trailer, was Perry. He was on crutches, a cast on his leg, his face full of cuts and bruises.
Karma had already caught him.
I walked up, my anger turning to shock. “Perry, what happened?”
He shifted on his crutches, looking away. “It’s… it’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” I pointed at the wrecked car. “That’s not nothing. What did you do? And why did you take Nana’s money, Perry?”
He winced, knowing he was caught. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this, Willow. I… I thought I’d just borrow it. I was gonna pay you back. But then I saw that car, and…”
“Borrow it?” I couldn’t believe it. “You don’t ‘borrow’ $20,000 that wasn’t for you. Nana gave that money to me, and you took it like it was nothing. And now look at you. This is what you get, Perry. This is what you deserve.”
Perry opened his mouth to argue, but I wasn’t done. “You’ve always taken everything. Our parents’ attention, their love: it was always about you. But this? This was different. This was from Nana, the one person who actually cared about me, and you stole it.”
Perry looked down. “I messed up, okay? I thought—”
“You thought what?” I snapped. “That I wouldn’t find out? That I didn’t deserve what Nana left me?”
He had no answer. We stood there, quiet, the weight of it all between us. Then my phone buzzed. It was Mr. Whitlock, Nana’s lawyer.
“Mr. Whitlock?” I answered, staring at Perry.
“Willow, I’ve been checking your grandmother’s will,” Mr. Whitlock said, his voice calm and steady. “There’s something you need to know. Your grandmother thought this might happen.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“She knew Perry might try to take the money, so she made a plan. The $20,000 was just part of her estate. The rest — her house, her savings, her investments — it’s all yours, Willow. She left everything to you.”
I couldn’t believe it. “Everything?”
“Yes, everything,” Mr. Whitlock said. “Your grandmother was clear. She wanted to make sure you were taken care of, so you wouldn’t need to depend on anyone.”
Tears stung my eyes, but they weren’t just sad tears. Nana had known. She saw this coming and protected me in a way only she could. Even after she was gone, she was still watching out for me, showing me I mattered.
I took a deep breath and looked at Perry. “I hope that convertible was worth it, Perry. I hope you enjoyed the ride.”
“Willow, I—” he started, his voice shaky.
I held up my hand, stopping him. “Don’t. I’m done with excuses, Perry. Just save it.”
Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, broken in more ways than one. For the first time, I didn’t feel like the forgotten sibling. Nana had made sure of that.
