Chapter 4The Heartless Sister

After a few days of silence, the wind shifted.

It wasn't just hate anymore. It was overwhelming sympathy for Chloe.

Because Chloe posted a long essay on Facebook.

Title: I Don't Want the Money, I Just Want a Home.

The photo was a blurry selfie. She was wrapped in a dirty blanket under a bridge, dirt on her face, eyes hollow.

"I never wanted to fight for the inheritance. After Mom and Dad died, I thought Harper was my rock. I didn't know she hated me this much."

"I have no money. I eat out of dumpsters. Last night, a homeless man stole my coat... sometimes, I don't think I can keep going..."

It went viral instantly. 100k shares.

"I'm sobbing."

"How can a sister be this evil? Letting her sleep under a bridge?!"

"Someone help her!"

People flooded the comments offering to send money. Someone started a GoFundMe.

But here’s the funny part: these "saints" were donating $5, maybe $10. No one offered her a guest room.

The relatives cornered me again. This time at a coffee shop near my complex.

"Harper!" Uncle Bob banged the table. "Your sister is living like a stray dog. Give her a way out!"

"Define 'way out'," I said, stirring my tea.

"The house. The savings," Aunt Linda snapped. "Split the inheritance. Half goes to her."

I laughed. I pulled a notarized document from my bag and slammed it on the table.

"Legally, she gets nothing."

The air left the room.

"You..." Uncle Bob’s hand shook. "She is your blood! If your parents knew, they’d be rolling in their graves!"

"Don't talk to me about dead people," I said calmly. "They're ash in a jar. They can't stop me."

I looked them in the eye. "I'm the legal owner. I do what I want."

"So," I spread my hands. "You guys love her the most. Who is taking her in?"

Silence.

"What? All talk, no action?" I mocked them. "You won't spend a dime on her, but you expect me to give up half my assets?"

Aunt Linda smashed her cup. "Karma is coming for you, Harper!"

I clapped slowly. "I'm waiting."