My Sister Got the House
When my father passed away, the last thing I expected was the inheritance I received — a chessboard. At first, I thought it was his final jab at me, his way of mocking my feelings. But then I heard something strange. A rattle coming from one of the chess pieces.
“Life is a chess game,” my father always said. “You don’t win by shouting. You win by seeing three moves ahead.” I’d heard that line a thousand times. I used to roll my eyes every time he said it. But now, with him gone, I would give anything to hear him say it one more time.
I didn’t say a word when he passed in the bedroom where we played our Sunday games. I didn’t speak when the neighbors showed up, carrying casseroles that tasted like sympathy. I didn’t say anything when Lara, my half-sister, arrived — tanned, smiling, and wrapped in a coat that probably cost more than the funeral itself.
“Gosh,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “It still smells like him in here.”
Of course it did. His favorite coat still hung by the door, his scent clinging to it like a memory no one wanted to forget.
Lara didn’t come to mourn. She came to collect.
We sat side by side, waiting for the lawyer to read the will. The paper crackled in his hands, his voice steady as he unfolded it.
“For my daughter Lara, I leave the house and everything inside it,” he read aloud. “The property cannot be sold while its current resident remains.”
Lara didn’t even look at me. She just smiled.
“And for my daughter Kate…” The lawyer paused, and my heart skipped a beat. “I leave my chessboard and its pieces.”
Lara snorted softly and tilted her head toward me, a smirk playing at her lips.
“A house for me, and a hobby for you. Fitting, don’t you think?”
I didn’t respond. I just stood, grabbed the chess set, and walked out. Behind me, I could still hear her laughter echoing in the empty house. The wind cut through my jacket as I stepped outside, but I didn’t have a plan. My feet carried me to the old park, the place where my father and I used to sit, making moves on weathered stone tables.
The chess tables were still there, half-sunken into the moss-covered ground. I sat down, opened the box, and let my fingers move without thinking. Bishop. Knight. Pawn. King.
“You’re really doing this?” The voice sliced through the silence, sharp and mocking.
I didn’t have to turn around. It was Lara. She appeared beside me and plopped herself down, her body language making it clear she thought she owned the place.
“Still clinging to Daddy’s toys? You really are predictable.”
She moved one of the pawns without asking, and I responded. The game had begun.
“You know,” she said, cocking her head, “he always thought this game taught character. But it’s just wood. Just symbols.”
She moved another piece, her fingers light and quick. “I got the house.”
I said nothing.
“You got a game.”
Pawn. Knight. Bishop.
“You always thought this meant something,” she continued. “But in the end, it’s just wood.”
She made her final move with a dramatic flick of her wrist.
“Checkmate,” she said, slamming her knight onto the table, her voice dripping with satisfaction.
Then, for the drama — or maybe just out of cruelty — she swept her arm across the table, sending the pieces scattering. Some bounced off the stone, others tumbled into the grass. One landed near my foot. I bent down to pick it up. It was heavier than I remembered. I rolled it between my fingers.
Click.
What was that sound?
I picked up another piece and gently shook it. Rattle. My breath caught in my throat. There was something inside.
I looked up at Lara. Our eyes locked. For a moment, I almost thought she’d heard it too. But she just tilted her head, bored, and let her gaze drift past me, like I wasn’t even there.
“Come to dinner tonight,” she said casually. “Mom asked. Said we should honor him properly. As a family.”
I blinked.
“Did she really?” I asked.
“Of course. It’s what he would’ve wanted. We should all be… civil.”
She turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the path like a ticking clock, counting down to something I didn’t yet understand.
Did she make that up? Or did she plan it? Knowing Lara, either answer could be true. She was clever, and her invitations were just as dangerous as threats.
That dinner wasn’t an invitation. It was a move. And now, I had no choice but to sit at the board.
A few hours later, Lara was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs. She hummed as she stirred something in a pot, plating food like she’d done it a thousand times before.
She even wore an apron — the one she used to call “tragically domestic.”
“Evening,” she greeted, opening the oven. “Hope you’re hungry. I made rosemary chicken. And there’s a vegan option for Mom.”
I blinked. Our mother looked up at Lara as if someone had replaced her overnight.
“You cooked?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Lara laughed sweetly.
“It’s not that hard. I followed a recipe. Even cut fresh parsley for garnish.”
Fresh parsley. Of course.
I sat down at the table in silence, across from the stranger who wore my sister’s face.
Throughout the meal, Lara kept up her act — passing dishes, topping off water glasses, smiling like she hadn’t just mocked me hours earlier in the park. She never looked at me directly. Not until I stood and placed the chessboard on the hallway console, just behind me. In plain sight. Closed. Waiting.
That was my move.
I offered a pawn. I wanted to see if she’d flinch. She didn’t, but her smile tightened, just a little too much.
Our mother noticed.
“You’ve been very sweet today,” she said to Lara, her voice light but deliberate. “Unusually sweet.”
“I’m trying to be better. We’re family, right?”
“Some bonds are stronger than others,” our mother said, cutting into her food. “Especially when they’re tested. When people choose to stay, to support.”
Her eyes locked with mine as she said it. I forced a smile.
“Is that what this is? Support?”
“I just think,” our mother said, setting down her fork, “that your father… he finally saw who truly stood beside him. Who gave him peace.”
“Peace?” I asked, my voice tight. “You mean silence. Compliance. He didn’t want peace — he wanted loyalty.”
“And you think that was you?”
I looked at Lara. “I stayed. I bathed him. Fed him. Watched him fade.”
“And he left you a game,” Lara said, her voice sweet and mocking.
“Maybe that says more about him than me,” I snapped.
Our mother leaned forward, her tone colder now.
“He gave my daughter the house because she deserved it. She sacrificed more than you know. And maybe it’s time you stopped acting like the victim.”
“I’m not acting. You’re just not used to seeing me speak.”
There was a long pause, sharp and heavy. Then Lara laughed, a sound that held no warmth.
“Okay, let’s not ruin dinner. This is supposed to be nice.”
Her mother turned to me.
“You should start packing in the morning. Just so there are no… complications.”
I stared at both of them. At the fake peace they were trying to sell me. I picked up my plate and silently brought it to the sink. I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t say a word. I just turned, walked upstairs, and locked my door behind me.
I knew one thing for sure. Dinner wasn’t over.
The house held its breath.
Somewhere in the darkness, I heard the soft creak of floorboards. A drawer opened with a quiet click. Velvet shuffled. Then, Lara’s voice, low and triumphant.
“I knew it,” she whispered. “I solved it.”
I stepped out of my room and into the hallway. There she was, crouched over the chessboard, the pieces scattered across the table. A small velvet pouch lay beside her. A paring knife glinted in the dim light. One of the rooks lay cracked open in two.
“So,” I said calmly, “it wasn’t just wood after all.”
Lara spun around, startled, her eyes narrowing.
“You knew,” she said, her voice trembling with disbelief.
I didn’t answer. I just watched as she stood up, straightening like a dancer on stage.
“I solved it,” she repeated. “He left the real gift inside the game. And I found it.”
“You broke it open like a thief,” I shot back.
“He gave you the board, but he gave me the meaning. And now I have it.”
“Do you?” I said, my voice cold.
From the shadows behind us, our mother emerged, silent and calculating.
“She figured it out,” she said, her voice flat. “And you didn’t.”
I looked at both of them, at the smug satisfaction on Lara’s face, the quiet pride in our mother’s eyes. They had already claimed their victory.
Lara lifted the pouch, and a few smooth, colorful stones spilled onto her palm.
“Check and mate,” she whispered.
I stepped forward, tapping one of the broken pieces of the chess set.
“Glass,” I said, my voice steady. “Colored, smooth. From a sewing kit I had since I was fifteen.”
I looked straight at Lara.
“You found what I let you find.”
Her face drained of color. “The stones you found? They’re fakes. Glass. From an old bead kit I used to keep for sewing buttons.”
I smiled.
“I swapped them out the morning after the funeral.”
Lara’s eyes went wide with shock.
“You’re lying,” she stammered.
I reached into my coat and pulled out a slim envelope.
“Here’s the deposit confirmation from the bank,” I said, my voice unwavering. “The real pouch is already locked away. Under my name. Safe. Untouchable.”
Lara stepped back as the paper burned her, her eyes wide with panic. Our mother didn’t say a word.
“And there’s something else,” I said, reaching into the lining of the chessboard case.
I pulled out a folded piece of paper. Soft from time, but intact.
“My father’s real will. The one he hid, because he knew the official one would only start the game.”
I opened it and read aloud:
“To my daughters…
If you’re reading this, it means the game has played out.
Lara, I loved you fiercely. I gave you much. You had freedom, opportunity, and every chance to show who you are. To your mother — I gave all I could. I hope it brought peace.
Kate — you stayed. You carried the weight. I gave you little but left you the map. That was my last game. My test.
If you are honest, you may live together in peace. If not, everything belongs to Kate.
I gave you all the pieces of me. I needed to see who would protect the whole.”
I folded the letter and looked at Lara, then her mother. Silence hung between us like fog.
“Checkmate.”
