My name is Jacob, and if I ever had any doubts about my place in the family, they vanished the day I learned about the will. It wasn’t even some dramatic conversation where my parents told me the news themselves. No, I found out about it completely by accident, through sheer dumb luck.
This happened a few months ago, when I was at their house in a small town outside Chicago. In that same house that I’d been helping pay for over the last five years. The mortgage, the occasional grocery runs, fixing whatever broke.
I was the one keeping everything afloat. Meanwhile, my brother Eric did absolutely nothing. And when I say «nothing,» I mean literally nothing.
No job, no responsibilities, just endless lounging around waiting for life to hand him everything on a silver platter. And apparently, my parents were only too happy to provide him with that kind of life. That day, I was helping Dad with some paperwork, because, as usual, neither he nor Mom could figure it out on their own.
He asked me to scan a few documents—legal and financial stuff. I didn’t think twice about it until I saw a folder labeled «Estate Plan» with the words «Last Will» and «Testament.» I’m not one to snoop through other people’s papers.
But curiosity got the better of me. After all, I was the one making sure they had a roof over their heads. It seemed reasonable to check how they were handling their assets for the future.
I opened the folder and saw words that made my heart sink. «Everything. Literally everything» was going to Eric.
The house, the savings, the assets. There wasn’t even a mention of me, except for some obligatory lines about how they loved both sons. Equally.
Yeah, sure, Jacob, equally. That’s why their golden boy was getting it all, and the one actually keeping them afloat didn’t even get a footnote. I felt like a complete fool…
I’d busted my ass for them, paid their bills, made sure they always had food, while they sat back and planned a future where I had no place. And Eric? He wasn’t just lazy. He was entitled.
Never helped, never contributed a dime, but somehow convinced our parents he was the one who deserved it all. Maybe because he’s the younger son, maybe because they always spoiled him, or maybe because he knew how to wrap them around his finger. Whatever the reason, they’d made their choice.
I sat there staring at the papers, my hands shaking with a mix of rage and betrayal. How long had they been planning this? Had they always intended to use me as a financial safety net with no payback?…
Did they ever appreciate what I did for them at all? I don’t know how long I sat like that, but at some point, Dad noticed I wasn’t scanning anything. «Jacob, what’s taking so long?» he asked, walking into the room.
I didn’t even try to hide the will. I just held it up and, looking him straight in the eyes, asked: «So this is how it is, huh?» «Everything.
To Eric. After all I’ve done for you.» Dad’s face went pale for a second, but then he just sighed heavily, like he was dealing with a whiny kid.
«Jacob, it’s not what you think.» «Really?» I snapped. «Because it looks pretty clear to me. I pay your mortgage, buy your groceries, fix this house, while Eric does absolutely nothing.
And yet he’s the only one who matters.» Dad looked uncomfortable, but instead of a real explanation, he just muttered: «It’s complicated, and that’s all.»
No apologies, no attempt to justify their decision. Just a lame excuse and the expectation that I’d swallow it and keep being their walking ATM. I should have turned and left right then.
But I needed to hear it from both parents. «Mom!» I called. She came into the room and, seeing the will in my hands, at least looked guilty. But the words she said made my blood boil…
«Jacob, honey, you don’t need an inheritance,» Mom said softly, like she was doing me a favor. «You have a good job, you’re independent.
But Eric… he’s struggling. We just want to make sure he’s taken care of.» That’s when something inside me broke.
They weren’t even trying to make excuses; they knew exactly what they were doing, and in their minds, it was totally justified. The years they’d spent enabling Eric’s laziness were now culminating in rewarding him with everything, while tossing me aside like a spare part. I took a deep breath, clenched my jaw, and put the will down on the table.
«Got it,» I said in an icy voice. «Good to know where I stand.» Then I turned and walked out of the house, ignoring their protests, slamming the door behind me with force.
They’d made their choice; now it was time for me to make mine. I never went back to that house outside Chicago, didn’t call, didn’t check in on them. For the first time in years, I let them handle their own problems.
Something needs fixing—let them figure it out. Out of food—let them go to the store themselves. And most importantly—if the mortgage bill comes due, that’s no longer my concern.
The silence lasted about two weeks. I think at first they figured I was just sulking and would crawl back like always. Maybe they were waiting for me to cool off and apologize for daring to question their decision.
But days passed, and there was no word from me. And more importantly—no money. You could practically feel their attitude shifting.
Then, one day, my phone buzzed. A text from Dad. Property tax deadline is coming up.
And that’s it. No «Hey, how are you?» No «Sorry about what happened.» No «We really appreciate everything you’ve done for us.»
Just a cold, business-like message, like I was still their personal ATM they could tap anytime. I stared at the screen, almost amused at how predictable it was. They really thought they could just demand money like nothing had happened…
That I’d keep playing the role of their financial savior, even after they’d made it clear I wasn’t needed. I quickly typed back: «I think Eric can handle it, since the house is his now.»
Exactly five minutes later, Mom called. I didn’t pick up. Then a message came through.
Mom: «Jacob, please don’t be like this. We need to talk.»
«Oh, now they need to talk?» Now that the bills were piling up and reality was finally slapping them in the face, I waited an hour before replying: «Nothing to talk about. You made your choice.
Now live with it.» I thought that would be the end of it. I was dead sure I’d made my position clear, and I didn’t regret it one bit.
But then Eric decided to butt in. Late that evening, I got a message from him. As soon as I saw his name on the screen, I knew it was going to be something annoying.
I opened it, and sure enough, pure arrogance: «Jacob, dude, why are you making such a drama? It’s not the end of the world. Just help them like always.»
I almost laughed. «Not the end of the world?» He really thought I had no right to be angry. I fired back right away:
«No, I think it’s your responsibility now. After all, you’re the favorite.» Eric:
«Oh god, are you seriously mad over some will? Grow up, dude. It’s just money.» Yeah.
Now that the money was his, it suddenly didn’t matter. There was some stunning irony in that. I typed back:
«Well, since it’s just money, it shouldn’t be hard for you to spend it on the mortgage, right?» Silence. A few minutes later, another message from Mom. This time she went full guilt mode:
Mom: «Jacob. We’re your parents.
Family takes care of each other. We did so much for you when you were growing up. And now you’re just abandoning us.»
I took a deep breath to keep from hurling my phone at the wall. Abandoning them? I’d spent years making sure they lived comfortably while they babied Eric, encouraging his laziness.
And now, when they finally had to face the consequences of their own decisions, I was the bad guy? But this time, I wasn’t falling for it. I typed back: «You made it clear I’m not part of the family when you left me out of the will.
Now let Eric take care of you.» I could practically hear Mom’s theatrical gasp in my head, like she always did when she wanted to play the victim, even when she was wrong. A few minutes later, a message from Dad came through, and it made me boil over…
Dad: «We’re not asking for much. Just help with the mortgage for a few more months while we sort things out. Don’t be selfish.»
Selfish? The word literally made my blood boil. I’d pulled them out of financial holes for years, sacrificing my own money, time, and energy to make their lives easier. I’d done everything a good son should.
And how did they repay me? By leaving me with nothing. And now, when I finally stood up for myself, I was the selfish one? I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, and typed: «No, I’m done.»
After that, I just turned off my phone. They’d made their choice. Now they had to live with it.
The silence held for exactly one day. I knew my parents wouldn’t give up that easily, but I wasn’t prepared for this. The next morning, I woke up to a notification: «Money transfer request.»
I frowned, unlocked my phone, and looked. From Mom. She’d literally sent me a request for money, like I was an ATM.
The amount—$5,000. I stared at the screen, half shocked, half laughing at the audacity. No message.
No explanation. Just a cold, shameless demand for exactly the amount they needed to cover the overdue mortgage payment. They didn’t even ask.
They just assumed I’d pay. I declined the request without hesitation. Less than five minutes later, my phone rang.
«Mom?» I didn’t pick up. A message came: «Mom: Jacob, I know you saw the request.
Why did you decline it?» I didn’t rush to reply. Finally, I wrote: «Because it’s not my responsibility.
Try Eric.» Another call. Declined…
New message: «Mom: We’ll lose the house if you don’t help us.» Oh, now it’s an emergency? After all these years of me being their walking wallet, they were finally feeling the consequences of their choice.
I typed back: «Should have thought about that before deciding I wasn’t important to you.» A couple seconds later, a message from Dad:
«Dad: Are you really going to let your parents go homeless?» I laughed out loud. The manipulation was so obvious it was almost funny. They weren’t destitute.
No one was kicking them out on the street. They just didn’t want to touch their savings because they were used to me paying for everything. I ignored them for the rest of the day. But that evening, Eric texted:
«Eric: Dude, just send them the money already. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.» I clenched my jaw. This entitled leech was really going to lecture me.
I replied: «You mean the money you’re inheriting? So why don’t you pay?» The response came immediately:
«Eric: You know I don’t have that kind of money right now.» «Ah, so that’s it. It’s about who has the money?» When I was spending my savings on them, it was fine.
But when it was his turn, suddenly he had no money. I wrote: «Well, bro, I guess you’ll have to figure it out…
After all, they chose you.» No response. I went to bed with an unexpected sense of relief.
I’d finally broken those chains. But the next day, things only got worse. I was at work in Chicago when the front desk of my building called.
«Um, Jacob, your parents are here.» I nearly dropped my phone. «What?» The girl on the other end hesitated.
«They say it’s urgent. And that you’re not answering calls?» Oh, my God. They really drove to Chicago just because I stopped paying their bills?
I took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of my nose, and said: «Don’t let them in. I’m not expecting them.» There was an awkward pause.
«Um, they’re being… a bit insistent.» I gritted my teeth.
«I don’t care. Tell them to leave.» I hung up and immediately got a text:
«Mom: We’re downstairs. Open the door.» No questions.
No explanations. Just another demand. I didn’t reply.
Another message: «Mom: We’re not leaving until you talk to us.» I exhaled sharply, leaning back in my chair.
They weren’t backing down. Fine. I was ready to teach them a lesson they’d never forget. I grabbed my keys and headed downstairs, boiling with rage every step of the way.
I wasn’t scared. I was furious. What kind of audacity does it take to show up at my place in Chicago, uninvited, demanding money like I’m their personal ATM? They didn’t even call first.
Didn’t even try to apologize. Just pure, brazen pressure. They really thought they could corner me and force me to comply, like I was a little kid.
I yanked the door open. And there they were. Mom.
Dad. And, of course, Eric. Standing shoulder to shoulder, like they were staging a family intervention…
