“You’re not really family, you have no rights,” hissed Alice at her father’s funeral, standing beside the coffin with a cold stare. “Dont expect anything from us.”
Emily flinched as if struck. She clutched a bouquet of white lilies, her hands trembling. Mourners shuffled past the coffin, whispering prayers, while Alice glared with undisguised contempt.
“Alice, please, not here,” Emily murmured. “Dad hasnt even been laid to rest.”
“Exactly. My dad,” Alice snapped. “My blood. And who are you? Just some foster child he took in out of pity.”
Emily placed the lilies at the head of the coffin and stepped back, throat tight with unshed tears. William Carter lay in the crisp white shirt shed bought him days before, hands folded, face peacefulas though sleeping. Hed never wake to wish her good morning or pat her head like he had for thirty years.
“Girls, whats this?” Aunt Margaret, a longtime neighbor, chided. “Arguing at a funeralhave some decency.”
“Nobodys arguing,” Alice scoffed. “Just reminding certain people of their place.”
Aunt Margaret shook her head and walked away. Emily stood apart, an outsider among faces shed known since childhoodneighbors, colleagues, distant relativesall gathered to say goodbye. Yet here, at her own fathers funeral, she felt like an impostor.
“Em, how are you holding up?” Sarah, a work friend, squeezed her shoulder.
“Thanks for coming,” Emily whispered, hugging her.
“Whys Alice glaring at you like that?”
“She thinks I shouldnt be here.”
“What? You lived with your dad since you were five!”
Emily nodded, wiping her eyes. She remembered the day William brought her home from the childrens homea tall, kind man with a tobacco-scented embrace, showing her a small bedroom with a little bed. “This is yours now,” hed said.
“Emily, come here.” Alices voice was sharp.
Bracing for another barb, Emily followed, but Alice pulled her aside into the funeral homes empty hallway.
“We need to talk. About the will.” Alices tone was icy. “You understand the house and the cottage go to me, right? Im his only blood relative.”
Emily blinked. She hadnt even thought of inheritanceonly funeral arrangements, who to notify, how to survive the next hour.
“Alice, can we discuss this later?”
“No. Now. Dad left no will, so by law, everything goes to me. Youre not his real daughter.”
“He adopted me,” Emily said quietly. “I have the papers.”
Alice sneered. “Out of pity. Now you expect a free ride? A house in London?”
“I dont want the house,” Emily snapped. “Just his books. The photos. Take the rest.”
“Oh, Im sure youll change your tune later.”
Emilys hands curled into fists. Thirty years in this family, and she was still an outsidera charity case.
“You know what?” she said softly. “Do whatever you want. Just bury Dad with dignity.”
“Youre lecturing me on how to bury my own father?”
“Yes. Because I cared for him when he was ill. You visited once a month for ten minutes.”
Alice flushed. “Im his real daughter. Youre just some orphan!”
The words stung worse than a slap. Emily turned and walked back to the coffin.
The wake was held at a modest pubEmily had taken out a loan to cover it, while Alice, who earned well at her corporate job, offered nothing. Over shepherds pie, stories were shared: how William, an engineer, had doted on Emily after adopting her, how hed stood up for her when Alice resented her as a child.
“Remember when Emily had pneumonia?” Aunt Margaret said. “William stayed up nights nursing her.”
Alice stiffened. “Dad was too soft. Always taking in strays.”
“He loved her,” Uncle John countered. “Same as you.”
Later, alone in her flat, Emily found Williams willsigned a year prior, leaving everything equally to both daughters. Alices lies unraveled.
When she confronted her, Alice spat, “Ill contest it! He wasnt in his right mind!”
“Youre wrong,” Emily said. “And I wont let you erase me from his life.”
The legal battle loomed, but Emily held fast. Blood didnt define familylove did. William had chosen her, loved her, and shed honor that.
As she left the solicitors office, the sun broke through the clouds. Shed fight, not for the house or the money, but for the truth: that love, not biology, makes a family. And no one could take that away.
