My Brother Stole My $2M Inheritance And Laughed, 'You Can't Do Anything About It' скачать в хорошем качестве

My Brother Stole My $2M Inheritance And Laughed, 'You Can't Do Anything About It'

I never thought I'd have to install security cameras in my own childhood home to protect it from my brother. But there I was, watching the footage on my phone as Ethan stumbled up our father's driveway at 2 AM, waving what looked like property documents in one hand and a bottle in the other. "It's all mine now, Liv," he slurred into the camera, knowing I was watching. "And there's nothing you can do about it. " That's when I decided: he was wrong. There was plenty I could do about it. Before we jump back in, tell us where you're tuning in from, and if this story touches you, make sure you're subscribed—because tomorrow, I've saved something extra special for you! The day we buried my father was the coldest October Portland had seen in decades. The wind cut through my black coat like it wasn't even there, but I barely noticed. Everything felt numb anyway. Richard Chen had been more than just my father—he was my mentor, my biggest supporter, and the wisest man I'd ever known. Now he was gone, leaving behind a craftsman-style house filled with memories, a successful furniture business, and a void that felt impossible to fill. I stood at the graveside, watching the polished walnut casket—dad would have appreciated the craftsmanship—being lowered into the ground. Dad had built Chen Family Furnishings from nothing into a chain of specialty stores known throughout the Pacific Northwest. Customers would drive hours just to browse his handcrafted pieces. "Furniture isn't just functional," he'd always say, "it's where life happens. " The small crowd of mourners huddled against the cold, their breaths visible in the crisp air. I felt a presence beside me and knew without looking that it was Ethan. My older brother swayed slightly, his eyes bloodshot but dry. I wondered if he'd been drinking before the funeral or if he was just sleep-deprived. With Ethan, it was usually the former. "Ms. Chen? " A voice broke through my thoughts. The funeral was over, and people were dispersing. Mr. Donovan, dad's attorney, stood before me with a sympathetic smile. "When you're ready, we need to discuss your father's estate. " I nodded, but before I could respond, Ethan stepped forward, suddenly alert. "I'm coming too," he said, his voice carrying an edge I recognized all too well. The edge that appeared whenever money was mentioned. Mr. Donovan's office was warm and smelled of old books and leather. I sat stiffly in a high-backed chair, hands folded in my lap, while Ethan lounged beside me, checking his watch every few minutes as if he had somewhere more important to be. "As you know, Richard was very meticulous about his affairs," Mr. Donovan began, opening a folder on his desk. "His will is quite specific. " I braced myself. Dad and I had spoken about this, but Ethan had no idea what was coming. "The family home and all its contents, the controlling interest in Chen Family Furnishings, and his personal savings of approximately two million dollars are to be left to Olivia. " The silence that followed was deafening. I stared at my hands, unable to look at my brother. "What about me?