My Sister Kicked Me Out of the House After Our Father's Death — But She Didn't Know He Had Foreseen It

When Dawn’s father passes away, she loses everything—her home, her family, and the sister who never truly cared for her. Thrown out with nothing but her personal belongings and an old wristwatch, she believes this is the end of the road. But her father anticipated everything. Within his final gift lies a hidden truth that will alter everything—including who ultimately comes out on top.

I had always known my sister, Charlotte, didn’t truly care about me. But I never imagined she would kick me out just two weeks after our father’s funeral.

For as long as I could remember, it had been the three of us—Dad, Charlotte, and me.

Well, mostly just Dad and me.

Charlotte, at thirty-five years old, had never really considered herself part of our family. She lived under our father’s roof, but she never saw it as home. She was always somewhere else—out at gatherings, with friends, or chasing after the latest "big opportunity," as she often put it.

"I’m destined for greatness, Dawn," she would say. "I’m not meant for a small, insignificant life where nobody knows who I am. Maybe one day, you’ll get it."

She treated our house like a temporary stop, only appearing when she needed something—especially when she was short on cash.

Meanwhile, I was seventeen and had never known life beyond those walls. I had been my father’s constant companion, shadowing him around the house, assisting him with repairs, and preparing our dinners whenever he returned from work.

"A homemade meal is always the best choice, Dawn," he often told me. "No matter how exhausted you are, always make something fresh for yourself."

"Do instant noodles count?" I once asked.

The only thing I remembered after that was the way he chuckled.

Growing up, I often wondered if Charlotte resented me. She was already an adult—eighteen years old—when I was born, with her entire future ahead of her. And then there was me, the unexpected child that followed.

I was the surprise that our mother hadn’t even bothered staying around for. But my father? He cherished me.

"Dawn, you were the beginning of a new chapter, my love," he would say. "You were the most unexpected blessing, and I embraced you with all my heart."

Maybe that was the reason. Maybe that explained Charlotte’s behavior.

By the time I was old enough to recognize her, Charlotte was already distancing herself. She never saw me as a sister—not really. To her, I was just an annoyance, an unwanted presence tagging along where I wasn’t welcome.

She never tucked me in at night or played games with me. Whenever Dad took us out for ice cream, she barely looked up from her phone.

But I had still believed—somehow—that she cared.

That she would be there when it truly mattered.

I had been so, so wrong.

Then Dad was gone. And my entire world crumbled.

Two weeks after his funeral, Charlotte and I sat in the lawyer’s office. She dressed elegantly but showed no real sorrow. Instead, she looked impatient, as though this was all a waste of her precious time. She idly examined her nails as we waited for Dad’s will to be read.

And me?

I sat stiffly beside her, my fingers clenched together in my lap. I didn’t know what to think or feel, except that I was drowning in grief.

The lawyer cleared his throat.

"Apologies for the wait, ladies," he said. "Had to take an urgent call. Let’s proceed."

Charlotte finally acknowledged him, glancing up.

"The house is left to Charlotte," he announced.

My stomach twisted. I wasn’t about to fight it... but why?

Why would my father do this to me?

"And for you," the lawyer turned to me, "your father left this."

He handed me a small box. Before even opening it, I already knew what was inside.

It was Dad’s watch.

Old, scratched, barely functioning—but I had never seen him without it.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Charlotte scoffed.

"Seriously? His watch?" she laughed. "Even in death, Dad is still playing favorites."

Ignoring her, I traced my fingers along the worn leather strap. It still smelled like him. I didn’t care about the house. I didn’t care about material things. I just wanted my dad back.

How was I supposed to go to college without him?

For the following days, we continued living under the same roof. We barely spoke. I went to school, worked at the coffee shop, and returned home.

It was a routine I clung to, a structure I needed.

Because without it, I would be swallowed by my grief.

Then, one evening, I came back from my shift and found all my belongings stacked by the front door—my guitar included.

Charlotte stood in the hallway, arms folded, a smug grin stretching across her face.

"This is it," she said with sickening delight. "Our paths split here, Dawn. I need you out."

"What?" I blinked, struggling to grasp the moment.

"You heard me, little sister," she said, motioning toward my bags. "This house belongs to me. The lawyer said so. And I don’t feel like playing guardian anymore."

I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my body was shutting down.

"Charlotte," I murmured. "I have nowhere else to go."

"Not my problem!" she chirped. "Figure it out."

My eyes burned, but I refused to let her see me cry.

"You’re really doing this to me?" I whispered.

She smirked.

"Maybe you should’ve been nicer to me growing up," she said. "Then I might feel bad."

My hands trembled as I called our lawyer, blurting everything out.

"Dawn!" he said, surprised. "What can I do for you?"

"Charlotte threw me out! What should I do?"

There was a pause.

Then he laughed.

"It’s happening just as your father predicted. Come to my office tomorrow. I have something for you."

The next morning, I dragged myself to his office, exhausted. He greeted me with a knowing smile.

"Take a seat, kid," he said. "You’ll want to hear this."

I hesitated but did as he said.

"Your father was a smart man, Dawn. He knew Charlotte would do exactly this. So he made preparations."

He slid a folder toward me.

"Seven years ago, your father inherited nearly two million dollars. He split it evenly between you and Charlotte—but under one condition."

My heart pounded. "What condition?"

"Charlotte only gets her share if she allows you to live in the house. If she refuses—she gets nothing."

I gasped.

"There’s more," he added, handing me a letter.

It was from my father.

My hands shook as I opened it.

Dawn,

I know Charlotte too well. She’ll do what she always does. But you’re smarter. You always have been. The money is safe in a deposit box. Use it wisely, my girl.

I love you forever.

—Dad

I stared at the details but faltered.

"I don’t know the code."

The lawyer smiled.

"The watch."

I flipped it over. There, faintly scratched, were four numbers.

A code.

For the first time since Dad died—I laughed.

Charlotte had the house, but she also had all the debt.

And she had just thrown out the only person who could save her.