My mother-in-law left me everything—her home, her wealth, and her secrets. But her will included a disturbing condition: I had to share the house with the people who hated me most.

My name is Delaney. I have two kids, a job at a dental clinic, and Caleb — a husband more familiar to bartenders than to his own children.

My MIL Gloria passed away, and her lawyer gathered us together to read the will. She had a lot of money (millions) and two kids-my husband and his sister.

I expected no surprises. But then the lawyer began, “…her lake house and assets, all go to Delaney.”

At first, I smiled, then the words hit me-I’M DELANEY! Oh my God… It felt like some kind of cruel joke.

Then the lawyer said, “But with ONE CONDITION: the beneficiary must remain legally married to Caleb S**** and reside under one roof with Gloria’s daughter, Tessa, for no less than 90 consecutive days.”
“No,” Tessa yelled. “Hell no.”

“You knew!” Caleb hissed. “That’s why you came! That’s why you played nice!”

I said nothing. Still holding the envelope the lawyer handed me.

“If you’re reading this — it means I failed. But I believe in you. You’re the only one who can finish what I couldn’t. Gloria”

A week passed.

Caleb barely spoke to me.

Every night he returned at dawn, smelling like alcohol and someone else’s perfume.

“You good?” I asked.

“Depends. Enjoying your new kingdom?”

Kingdom? This was a minefield — and he knew it.

And still… I loved him. I believed we could rebuild.

Tessa vanished after the will reading.

One morning, I found trash in the mailbox — the wrapper of her favorite candy bar. I stared at it. That was her favorite. Always stuffed in her bag like a bad habit.

“Still the same child in a grown woman’s body,” I whispered.

And that scared me.

That night, my youngest crept into my bed and whispered,

“Are you okay, Mom?”

I wanted to scream, “I’m trying!”

But I just smiled. And I couldn’t let my kids see my cracks.

I kept rereading Gloria’s letter, searching for some kind of map.

“…Delaney, I know this will not feel like a gift. But you were the only one who saw them for who they are — and still stayed. Tessa… she lived on my money and called it freedom. I was too weak to stop her. But you won’t be.”

But I didn’t know where to start. Then it happened. Friday. The school called.

“Your kids… they’ve been picked up.”

“Your relative. Tessa. Said you had an emergency. They didn’t resist.”

I drove through every mall, park, and even that pretentious vegan café she liked. Her phone — off. Three hours later:

“They’re fine. Just sugar high and happy. You’re welcome.”

They were at her place.

“You kidnapped them?!”

“Please, Delaney. I’m their aunt. You’re acting like I’m a stranger.”

“You are. Especially when you act like a saboteur in lip gloss.”

She scoffed.