For eight years, I paid my parents’ mortgage with a clear agreement: when they sold the house, I’d receive a larger share. But when my sister, Susan, moved back home and convinced them to leave her the house, everything changed.
At first, I sympathized with Susan—she had lost her job and needed support. But soon, old habits resurfaced. She spent money on designer clothes and takeout while barely working. “Mom does that, sis! And you know I’m no good in the kitchen,” she laughed when I suggested she cook. My concerns were dismissed: “Don’t worry so much, Em. Something always works out.”
One dinner, Susan announced, “Mom, Dad, and I have been talking… I should stay here permanently.” My parents agreed, ignoring our deal. Furious, I stopped paying the mortgage. When foreclosure loomed, I bought the house myself. “I won’t be used,” I told them.
Susan refused to accept it, but my parents finally saw her entitlement. They moved into a condo, while I turned the basement into a rental. What started as betrayal became my best financial decision.
