My Late Father Left Me a House, but the Woman Living There Revealed a Secret That Changed Everything
When my father passed away, I expected grief, not surprises. But when the lawyer read his will, I was stunned—he had left me a house I’d never heard of.
Confused, I drove to the address, a quaint but slightly worn cottage on the outskirts of town. I expected an empty house, but when I knocked on the door, a woman in her sixties answered.
“Yes?” she asked cautiously.
“I’m sorry, but… I believe this house belongs to me now,” I said.
Her eyes widened before she sighed. “You’re Robert’s son, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “Who are you?”
She hesitated, then stepped aside. “Come in. We need to talk.”
Inside, the house was warm, filled with old photographs and the scent of fresh bread. As I sat down, she looked at me with sad eyes.
“My name is Evelyn. And I was your father’s… wife.”
My heart pounded. “That’s impossible. My father was married to my mother for over thirty years.”
She nodded. “Yes. But before that, before you were even born, we were married. And we had a child.”
I felt dizzy. “A child?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Your brother. Daniel.”
I stared at her, unable to process the words. My father had another family? Another son?
“Where is he?” I finally asked.
She looked away. “Daniel passed away years ago. A car accident.”
I struggled to breathe. My father had hidden an entire life from me. But as I looked around the house—the family pictures, the memories—I realized that for Evelyn, this had never been a secret. Only for me.
“What happens now?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
She smiled sadly. “I don’t expect anything. But this house—it was my home with your father. It’s all I have left of him and Daniel.”
I looked at her, a woman who had lost everything, and suddenly, my inheritance didn’t seem as important.
