The Two Ungrateful Daughters
«We didnt buy that three-bed flat for nothing, you know,» Mum leaned in, her eyes bright with excitement. «Were renting it out room by room to studentsfive of them already! The incomes enough to keep us comfortable in retirement.»
Emma nodded, happy for them. Her parents had worked tirelessly their whole lives; they deserved peace now. But then her father, Robert Wright, who had been silently reading the paper at the table, folded it and spoke up.
«We know what youre thinkingwholl inherit the flat. With three children, its only natural to wonder. Perfectly normal, really.»
Emma shook her head. The thought hadnt even crossed her mind. Her parents were alive and wellwhy worry about inheritance? But her mother, Margaret, continued in a tone so sharp it sent a chill down Emmas spine.
«Oh, come off it! Of course youre thinking about it! Who wouldnt? Dont deny it, love.»
Emma opened her mouth to object, but her mother cut her off.
«Anyway, your father and I have talked it over. The flat will go to whoever takes the best care of us. Fairs fair, isnt it?»
Silence fell over the kitchen. Emma stared at them, stunned. Was this some kind of competition? Her father cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze.
«We spent our lives raising you, sacrificing for you. Now its your turn to prove yourselves. And if were not satisfied» He paused meaningfully. «Well, lets just say you wont see a penny.»
Emma sat frozen. They watched her expectantly, as if waiting for applause. A lump formed in her throat. She mumbled something about an urgent errand and hurried out.
On the bus ride home, her mind raced. What kind of auction was this? Who would bid the most for their parents approval? Pulling out her phone, she dialed her older sister, Charlotte.
«Charlie, you wont believe what Mum and Dad just said.»
«About the flat and inheritance?» Charlotte sighed wearily. «They told me yesterday. Im still reeling.»
«What are we supposed to do?» Emma pressed the phone to her ear, straining to hear over the bus noise.
«No idea. Weve always looked after them. Paid their bills, brought groceries, dropped everything when they called. And our dear brother, Tom? Too busy with work, too busy with his love life.»
«How are they even going to judge who cares more?» Emma stepped off the bus, still talking. «Will they score us? Make a bloody chart?»
Charlotte let out a bitter laugh.
«Sounds about right. Maybe its for the bestwell finally see where we stand. Though I think we both know wholl win this little game.»
The weeks that followed were torture. The calls started immediatelylate on a Wednesday evening, the first one came.
«Emma, darling,» Mums voice was sharp. «Weve got a doctors appointment tomorrow morning, and we need to pop by the shops after. Could you drive us? Your cars fixed now, isnt it?»
Emma had a crucial meeting at nine.
«Mum, what about a taxi?»
«Dont be ridiculous! Taxis cost a fortune!» Margaret huffed. «Are we strangers to you? Cant your own parents rely on you?»
With a sigh, Emma gave in. She cancelled her morning, listening to them gush about their golden boy, Tom.
On Friday, buried in work, her father called.
«Love, weve got furniture being delivered. Need help carrying it in. Movers charge an arm and a leg these days.»
«Dad, Im at work»
«What kind of job wont let you help your parents?» His tone was pure disapproval.
Again, she left early, earning glares from her boss. Her back ached for days afterward.
On her day off, just as she settled into the salon chair for a much-needed facial, her mother rang.
«Emma, were doing a deep clean. Curtains down, chandeliers washed. We cant manage alonewere not as young as we used to be.»
The facial was cancelled. Emma spent the day scrubbing their house, listening to endless praise for Tom.
«Tommys so thoughtful,» Margaret cooed, sipping tea while Emma scoured the stove. «Called us last nightsuch a long chat!»
«When was the last time he actually helped?» Emma snapped, wiping sweat from her brow.
Her parents exchanged glances. Her mother pursed her lips.
«Watch your tone. Tommys busy. He has an important jobnot like you girls. Youre meant to be wives and homemakers! Its your duty to help. Hes the man of the family.»
Emma bit back a retort, fists clenched.
A week later, she was back at their flat, preserving vegetables. Her parents supervised, barking orders.
«Less vinegar! More dill!»
«Tommy adores pickled cucumbers,» her father mused. «Hell be thrilled when he visits.»
«When *will* he visit?» Emma twisted another lid shut.
«Dunno hasnt been round in a month,» Margaret admitted grudgingly. «Very busy.»
Emma set down the jar and turned to them, fury boiling over.
«So the flat goes to me and Charlie, then? Since were the ones actually helping, and Toms never here?»
Margarets face flushed crimson. She shot up, knocking over her tea.
«You selfish girl! Thinking only of yourself! Tommy needs that flathes the one wholl carry on the family name! The inheritance should go to him first!»
Something inside Emma shattered. Years of sacrifice, endless favorsall for nothing. Slowly, she untied her apron and turned off the stove.
«Your *heir*?» Her voice cracked. «What about us? Weve always been here. Dropped everything for you. But that doesnt count, does it?»
She walked to the door. Her parents scrambled after her.
«Emma, wait! Youre twisting our words!»
«Whos going to finish the preserves? You cant just leave this mess!»
Emma stopped, turning back. Not angry. Just tired.
«Im busy. Just like Tom. Find someone else.»
She left, closing the door quietly. Outside, she called Charlotte.
«Charlie. Im done.»
«What happened?»
Emma told her. Charlotte was silent, then sighed heavily.
«Lets act like our dear brother, then. If hes the heir, let him take care of them. Well be the ungrateful daughters.»
«Exactly what I was thinking.» Emma breathed in the crisp air.
From that day, their lives changed. Every call from their parents met the same response: *Call Tom. Hes your heir.* Margaret sulked. Robert fumed. But the sisters held firm.
A month later, Emma walked through an autumn park, leaves crunching underfoot. She smiled.
Her phone buzzedMum. She glanced at the screen and tucked it away.
*Let them call Tom.*
He was the golden child, after all.
And she? She was finally free.
