My Mom, Brother, and SIL Made My Life Hell After Moving Into My House, I Endured Them for Months Until I Finally Put Them in Their Place
The grandfather clock chimed in the hallway as I traced my fingers over Dad’s framed photo. A whole year had passed since we buried him, yet the ache in my chest hadn’t dulled. His absence still felt raw, like an open wound that refused to heal.
“I miss you, Dad,” I whispered into the silence.
My mother walked in, her expression hard. That mixture of pity and resentment had become her permanent look since the will reading.
“Katie, stop moping. He’s gone. Crying won’t bring him back,” she snapped.
Her words stung. When Dad died of cancer, his lawyer revealed that he had left me ninety percent of everything, including the century-old family home. Mom and my brother Tyler each received $10,000. I still remembered Mom’s face twisting with rage that day, her anger radiating like heat.
“I’m not moping,” I muttered. “Just remembering.”
She snorted and waved a hand. “Then remember while cleaning this place. You’re twenty and still don’t know how to keep a house. It’s a mess.”
I stayed silent. For a year, I had let her act like she owned the house. It was easier than fighting. That peace shattered one rainy afternoon in May when the front door burst open and the sound of rolling suitcases filled the hall.
Tyler stood in the entryway with his wife, Gwen, flanked by towers of luggage.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my stomach tightening.
“Surprise!” Tyler grinned. “Our lease ended. We figured, why waste money on rent when there’s plenty of space here?”
“You’re moving in? Did you even talk to me about this?”
“Of course they did,” Mom said, appearing behind me with a satisfied smirk. “I told them it was a wonderful idea.”
I turned to her, incredulous. “This isn’t your house to offer.”
The air grew heavy. Mom’s eyes narrowed. “What did you just say?”
“It’s not yours. Dad left it to me. You should have asked.”
Tyler laughed, Gwen smirking by his side. “Come on, Katie. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the family home. We’re family.”
“Which room should we take?” Gwen added breezily, already climbing the stairs.
“The blue room,” Mom called after her. “Best morning light.”
They thundered upstairs with their luggage, leaving me rooted to the spot, feeling like a stranger in my own home.
Two months of hell followed. Dishes piled up, laundry rotted in the washer, food vanished from the fridge. They paid nothing, contributed nothing, and treated me like a live-in maid.
One morning, as I washed their breakfast dishes, Tyler waltzed in, arm around Gwen.
“We’ve got amazing news,” he announced.
Gwen beamed, holding up a pregnancy test. “We’re pregnant!”
“Congratulations,” I said cautiously.
“And that means we won’t be moving out anytime soon,” Gwen added smugly.
I set down the dish, my hands trembling. “Actually, it’s time you found your own place. This isn’t—”
Tyler cut me off with a laugh. “Not happening. You wouldn’t kick out your pregnant sister-in-law, would you?”
“This is my house. Dad left it to me.”
Mom swept in like she’d been waiting. “It’s the family home. They’re starting a family, Katie. Show some compassion!”
Three pairs of eyes bore into me as if I were the unreasonable one.
That was the start of my nightmare. Gwen’s pregnancy became their golden excuse for everything. At 5 a.m., Mom shook me awake. “Gwen needs a McMuffin. McDonald’s opens at six.”
“What? Why me?”
“She’s pregnant with your niece or nephew. Get up.”
I stood in line in the cold dawn, bought the sandwich, and came home late for class—only for Gwen to take one bite and say, “It’s cold. I don’t want it anymore.” Mom glared at me. “You should’ve driven faster.”
Weeks passed in the same cycle of demands, insults, and exhaustion. My birthday arrived with no acknowledgment. Only my friend Zoe remembered, dropping off six cupcakes. “Save me one,” I told Mom before heading to work. When I came home, they were all gone.
“Where are my cupcakes?”
Gwen patted her belly with a smug smile. “They were delicious. Blame the baby!”
Mom shrugged. “She’s eating for two.”
That night, I bought a mini-fridge for my room, only to find Mom had let Gwen in with her spare key. “Family doesn’t lock each other out,” she scolded.
“Family doesn’t steal from each other either,” I shot back.
The breaking point came on a Thursday. I worked all day without food, then rushed home and cooked Dad’s mushroom pasta recipe. I barely stepped away to take a call, and when I returned, Gwen was at the counter, my fork in her hand.
“GWEN! That’s my dinner!”
“I was hungry,” she said coolly.
“I haven’t eaten all day!”
Her face crumpled into fake tears. “I’m pregnant! I needed to eat!”
Tyler stormed in, pulling her close. “What’s wrong with you, Katie? She’s carrying your niece or nephew!”
Mom’s voice was venom. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”
That broke me. “Don’t you dare use Dad against me,” I whispered.
“Get out!” Tyler shouted. “Leave this house until you can apologize!”
I stared at them, stunned. “This is MY house!”
Their glares told me everything. To them, I wasn’t family—I was an obstacle. That night, I called Uncle Bob, Dad’s brother. Through tears, I explained everything.
“Enough is enough,” he said. “Remember when I offered to buy the house? That offer still stands.”
By morning, the paperwork was ready. I walked into the living room where they lounged on my couch.
“I sold the house. To Uncle Bob. You have 48 hours to leave.”
The silence was delicious. Then came the outrage—Mom shrieking, Tyler cursing, Gwen clutching her belly like it was a shield. I didn’t care. “Family doesn’t treat me the way you did. Get out.”
Two weeks later, I signed papers on a cozy cottage across town. Uncle Bob handed me the check—$2 million. “Your dad would be proud,” he said.
That night, my phone buzzed with Mom’s text: “You made us homeless. I hope you’re happy, selfish monster.”
I blocked her number. Standing in my new home, free at last, I whispered, “Yes, I am.”
Because family isn’t about blood. It’s about respect. And sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is shut the door on people who will never respect you.