MY SISTER HAD DAD’S ORIGINAL WILL SHREDDED AFTER HE DIED
The lawyer’s voice was too calm as he explained the sudden change in Dad’s final wishes. I clutched the armrest, the old velvet scratching against my fingers, trying to process what he was saying about the house. This wasn’t right; Dad had always been so clear about splitting everything equally between Amelia and me, even specifying the antique clock for my living room.
I called Amelia immediately, my blood pressure thrumming in my ears, demanding to know what she’d done. “What do you mean, you have the new will? That wasn’t Dad’s intention!” I shouted, the words tasting like ash. She just kept repeating that Dad was ‘confused’ at the end, and she was ‘protecting’ his legacy, cutting me out almost entirely.
She finally admitted she’d taken Dad’s official documents, including his original will, the day after the funeral, before anyone else got there. The air in her small, overstuffed office felt suddenly thick and stale, a heavy weight pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. She said, “He was confused at the end, I was just making sure things were handled properly, for *us*.”
I asked about the specific document Dad had made five years ago, the one notarized and filed with Mr. Henderson, the family lawyer. That’s when her eyes flickered, just for a second, and a sick, sinking feeling settled deep in my stomach. She just smiled, a chillingly empty expression. “Why worry about old papers?” she mumbled, almost too casually. Then I saw the shredder sitting beside her desk, bits of paper still clinging to the blades.
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*I hung up, the dial tone a shrill echo of the chaos in my mind. Shredded. The word reverberated, each syllable a hammer blow against my sanity. The original will, the one that guaranteed fairness, was gone. Destroyed. By Amelia.
Despair threatened to drown me, but a flicker of anger ignited within. This wasn’t just about money or possessions; it was about Dad, his wishes, and the trust Amelia had so carelessly betrayed. I wouldn’t let her get away with it.
First, I called Mr. Henderson. His initial surprise at my news quickly morphed into concern. He confirmed that he’d drafted and notarized Dad’s will five years prior, and while he didn’t have a copy himself (Dad had taken the original), he had detailed notes of its contents, including the witnesses who were present at the signing. He remembered Dad’s specific instructions regarding the equal division and the antique clock.
Armed with Mr. Henderson’s notes, and a burning determination, I hired a lawyer of my own, a sharp woman named Sarah who specialized in estate disputes. Sarah listened intently as I recounted everything, her expression hardening with each detail of Amelia’s actions.
“The fact that she admits to possessing and destroying the original will is significant,” Sarah explained. “We can petition the court to have the destroyed will admitted as the true will, based on Mr. Henderson’s testimony and the witness accounts.”
The legal battle was long and arduous. Amelia fought tooth and nail, painting Dad as incompetent and herself as the dutiful daughter protecting his legacy. But Sarah was relentless, presenting a solid case built on evidence and witness testimonies that contradicted Amelia’s narrative. The witnesses confirmed Dad’s mental clarity at the time of signing, and Mr. Henderson’s notes painted a clear picture of Dad’s intentions.
Finally, after months of agonizing legal proceedings, the judge ruled in my favor. He declared the destroyed will as the valid one, based on the evidence presented. Amelia was ordered to comply with its terms, meaning an equal division of assets, including the house.
The antique clock now sits proudly in my living room, a constant reminder of Dad’s love and fairness. The relationship with Amelia is irrevocably damaged. There’s a distance between us now, a chasm carved out by her greed and betrayal. While I won the legal battle, the emotional scars remain. But knowing that I honored Dad’s wishes, and prevented Amelia from rewriting his story, brings a sense of peace. I made sure Dad’s real will remained, even from beyond the grave.