Oh man, let me tell you this storyits proper heartbreaking. Never thought my own kid would drag me through the courts. When my husband passed last year, his will was crystal clear: our house in Manchester, the savings in pounds, the lotit all came to me first, with our lad, Oliver, inheriting after Im gone. My husband wanted me looked after in my later years, bless him. Never crossed my mind that same kindness would split our family right down the middle.
Oliver had always been a decent bloke, but after his dad died, something flipped. He packed in his job, said he fancied a fresh start, and when I didnt just hand over a wad of cash for his new venture, he proper turned sour. One night, he shows up at mine and says, Mum, that moneys meant to be mine. Dad wanted me to have it. I tried to explain gentlythat wasnt the case, not yet. His dad wanted him to stand on his own two feet first, learn the value of things.
But Oliver wouldnt have it. Said I was being tight, clinging to whats rightfully his. Next thing I know, Im holding court papersmy own son taking me to court over his inheritance. Sat there at the kitchen table, hands shaking so bad I could barely make out the words. Cried myself to sleep that night, proper gutted.
The courtroom was freezingnot just the aircon, but the way we barely spoke. When Oliver walked in, he wouldnt even look at me. Kept thinking back to when he was littlehow hed grab my hand in busy places, how his dads face would light up talking about him. Now we were stood metres apart like total strangers.
He argued I didnt *need* the money, that hed put it to better use. When it was my turn, I could hardly get the words out. Just told the judge I loved my son, that this wasnt about being greedyit was about respecting his dads wishes.
Then the judge leaned in, and the whole room went quiet. The wills clear, he said. Mrs. Whitmore keeps the estate until her passing. Only then does it pass to her son. But then his voice softened. But Ill tell you thisyou havent just lost a case today. Youre losing each other.
That proper wrecked me. I turned to Oliver, and there he wasshoulders shaking, tears rolling down his cheeks. Im sorry, Mum, he choked out.
I got up and reached for him, and suddenly, none of it matteredthe court, the money, none of it. Just me and my boy, holding on like we could still fix this if we tried hard enough.
