My sister got the house. I got a chessboard. At first, I thought it was my father’s final insult — until I heard something strange rattling inside one of the pieces.
“Life is a chess game,” my father used to say. “You don’t win by shouting. You win by seeing three moves ahead.”
I used to roll my eyes when he said that. But that day I’d give anything to hear him say it one more time.
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I didn’t speak when he died in the bedroom where we played every Sunday. Didn’t speak when neighbors brought warm casseroles and colder condolences. Didn’t speak when my half-sister Lara arrived — tanned, smiling, wrapped in a coat that probably cost more than the funeral.
“Gosh,” she said to my mother, “it still smells like him in here.”
Of course, it did. His perfumed coat was still hanging by the door.
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Lara didn’t come to mourn. She came to collect.
We sat side by side waiting for the last will. Finally, the lawyer unfolded the envelope.
“For my daughter Lara, I leave the house and everything within it,” he read aloud. “The property cannot be sold while its current resident remains.”
Lara didn’t look at me. Just smiled.
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“And for my daughter Kate…”
The lawyer paused. I held my breath.
“I leave my chessboard and its pieces.”
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Lara let out a soft snort and tilted her head toward me.
“A house for me, and a hobby for you. Fitting, don’t you think?”
I didn’t answer. Just stood, picked up the chess set, and walked out. I could still hear her laughter behind me. Outside, I walked without a plan. The wind bit through my sleeves.
By the time I realized where I was going, my feet had already taken me to the old park. The chess tables were still there, half-sunken in stone and moss.
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I sat down. Opened the box. My fingers moved without thinking. Bishop. Knight. Pawn. King.
“You’re really doing this?”
The voice sliced through the silence. I didn’t need to turn around. Lara. She appeared beside me and dropped into the seat like it had always been hers.
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“Still clinging to Daddy’s toys? You really are predictable.”
She reached out and moved a pawn without asking. I responded.
We started playing.
“You know,” she said, cocking her head, “he always thought this game taught character. But it’s just wood. Just symbols.”
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She moved again. “I got the house.”
I stayed quiet.
“You got a game.”
Pawn. Knight. Bishop.
“You always thought this meant something,” she continued. “But in the end, it’s just wood.”
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Her final move came fast. A snap of the wrist.
“Checkmate,” she declared, slamming the knight down with unnecessary flair.
Then — for the drama, or maybe just for cruelty — she stood and swept the board with her arm.
“No point in clinging to illusions.”
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The pieces scattered. Some bounced on the stone table. Others tumbled into the grass. One landed near my foot. I reached down. Picked it up. It was heavier than I remembered. I rolled it between my fingers.
Click.
What is that?
Not the sound of wood. Not hollow. I picked up another piece. Gently shook it. Rattle. My breath caught in my throat.
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There’s something inside!
I looked up. Lara was watching me. Our eyes locked. And in that split second, I was almost sure — she’d heard it too. But she tilted her head, as if bored, and let her gaze drift past me like I wasn’t even there.
“Come to dinner tonight,” she said casually. “Mother asked. Said we should honor him properly. As a family.”
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I blinked.
“Did she really?”
“Of course. It’s what he would’ve wanted. We should all be… civil.”
She turned and walked away before I could respond, heels clicking against the path like a ticking clock.
Did she just make that up? Or did she plan it?
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Knowing Lara, either answer could be true. She was clever. And invitations could be just as dangerous as threats.
That dinner wasn’t a gesture.
It was a move. She is playing with me now.
And I had no choice but to sit at the board.
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***
A few hours later, Lara was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs — humming, stirring, plating food like she’d done it a thousand times.
She even wore an apron. The one she used to call “tragically domestic.”
“Evening,” she said brightly, opening the oven. “Hope you’re hungry. I made rosemary chicken. And there’s a vegan option for Mom.”
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I blinked. Our mother looked up at Lara as if someone had replaced her overnight.
“You cooked?” she asked, brows raised.
Lara laughed sweetly.
“It’s not that hard. I followed a recipe. Even cut fresh parsley for garnish.”
Fresh parsley. Of course.
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I took my seat in silence. Across from the impostor who wore my sister’s face.
Throughout the meal, Lara kept the performance going — passing dishes with both hands, topping off water glasses, smiling like she hadn’t just mocked me in a park hours earlier.
She didn’t look at me. Not directly. Not until I stood and placed the chessboard on the hallway console. Just behind me. Just in view. Closed. Waiting.
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That was my move.
A pawn offered. I wanted to see if she’d flinch. She didn’t flinch. But her smile stretched a little too tight.
Our mother noticed.
“You’ve been very sweet today,” she said to Lara, her voice light but deliberate. “Unusually sweet.”
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“I’m trying to be better. We’re family, right?”
“Some bonds are stronger than others,” our mother said, cutting into her food. “Especially when they’re tested. When people choose to stay, to support.”
Her eyes didn’t leave me as she said it. I forced a smile.
“Is that what this is? Support?”
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“I just think,” she said, setting down her fork, “that your father… he finally saw who truly stood beside him. Who gave him peace.”
“Peace?” I asked, my voice tightening. “You mean silence. Compliance. He didn’t want peace — he wanted loyalty.”
“And you think that was you?”
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I looked at Lara. “I stayed. I bathed him. Fed him. Watched him fade.”
“And he left you a game,” Lara said, still smiling.
“Maybe that says more about him than me,” I said sharply.
Our, no, Lara’s mother leaned forward.
“He gave my daughter the house because she deserved it. She sacrificed more than you know. And maybe it’s time you stopped acting like the victim.”
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“I’m not acting. You’re just not used to seeing me speak.”
There was a pause — full, sharp. Then Lara laughed.
“Okay, let’s not ruin dinner. This is supposed to be nice.”
Her mother turned to me.
“You should start packing in the morning. Just so there are no… complications.”
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I stared at her. At both of them. At the fake peace, they tried to pass as family.
I picked up my plate. Quietly brought it to the sink. I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t say anything.
Just turned, walked upstairs, and locked my door behind me.
I knew one thing for certain. Dinner wasn’t over.
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***
The house held its breath. I was waiting.
Suddenly…
Somewhere in the darkness, I heard the soft creak of floorboards. A quiet click of a drawer. A velvet shuffle. Lara was crouched over the chessboard, the pieces already scattered, some opened. A paring knife beside her.
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One of the rooks cracked in half. A small velvet pouch in her hand, glinting with stolen pride.
“So,” I said calmly. “It wasn’t just wood after all.”
Lara spun around, startled, then narrowed her eyes.
“You knew.”
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I didn’t answer. She stood, straightening herself like a dancer on a stage.
“I solved it,” she said. “He left the real gift inside the game. And I found it.”
“You broke it open like a thief.”
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“He gave you the board, but he gave me the meaning. And now I have it.”
“Do you?”
From the shadows behind us, her mother emerged.
“She figured it out,” she said simply. “And you didn’t.”
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I looked at both of them. At the confidence in Lara’s eyes. At the satisfaction twisting in her mouth. They were already reaching for the stones.
Lara lifted the pouch and dropped a few of them onto her palm — bright, glassy things.
“Check and mate,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“No. Zugzwang.”
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“What?”
“It’s a chess term. It means every move you make now only makes things worse.”
The mother frowned. “What are you talking about?”
I stepped closer to the table. Tapped one of the pieces Lara had cracked open.
“Glass. Colored, smooth. From a sewing kit, I’ve had since I was fifteen.”
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I looked straight at Lara.
“You found what I let you find.”
She went pale. “The stones you found? They’re fakes. Glass. From an old bead kit, I used to keep for sewing buttons.
“I swapped them out the morning after the funeral.”
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Lara’s face paled. “You’re lying.”
I reached into my coat and pulled out a slim envelope.
“Here’s the deposit confirmation from the bank. The real pouch is already locked away. Under my name. Safe. Untouchable.”
Lara stepped back as the paper burned her. Her mother said nothing.
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“And there’s something else,” I said, reaching into the lining of the chessboard case.
A folded piece of paper. Soft from time, but intact.
“My father’s real will. The one he hid, because he knew the official one would only start the game.”
I opened it and read aloud:
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“To my daughters…
If you’re reading this, it means the game has played out.
Lara, I loved you fiercely. I gave you much. You had freedom, opportunity, and every chance to show who you are. To your mother — I gave all I could. I hope it brought peace.
Kate — you stayed. You carried the weight. I gave you little but left you the map. That was my last game. My test.
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If you are honest, you may live together in peace. If not, everything belongs to Kate.
I gave you all the pieces of me. I needed to see who would protect the whole.”
I folded the letter. Silence hung between us like fog. I looked at Lara, then her mother.
“Checkmate.”
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: My future MIL gave me a list of 10 rules to become the “perfect” wife for her son. I smiled, nodded… and decided to follow every one of them. Just not the way she expected.
My Boyfriend Made My Life a Living Hell after I Publicly Rejected His Marriage Proposal – Is My Revenge Justified?
When Mandy turns down her boyfriend’s unexpected proposal, he spitefully sabotages her career, leaving her jobless and financially strained. But Mandy knows Jeff’s darkest secrets, and with nothing left to lose, she sets out to get her revenge.
So, I’m a 26-year-old junior attorney, totally immersed in my career. My boyfriend, Jeff, is 29, ambitious, and determined. We’ve been together for a year and a half. Everything was going great until he proposed.
A man hides an engagement ring behind his back | Source: Pexels
Last weekend, both our families decided to spend the day at Disneyland. It was supposed to be a fun family outing, enjoying the rides and all.
We were standing in front of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle as the sun began to set. Out of nowhere, Jeff got down on one knee. My heart skipped a beat. His brother handed him a bouquet of roses, and Jeff looked up at me with this hopeful smile.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
A man proposing to a woman | Source: Pexels
I was stunned. Like, deer-in-headlights stunned. My mind raced. We’d talked about the future, sure, but nothing about marriage. We were both so focused on our careers. How could he think this was the right time?
My heart pounded in my chest as I took in the excited looks on our families’ faces. Both our Moms had their phones out, recording every minute, and Dad was watching me with such pride.
I hated to disappoint them all, but I had to answer Jeff honestly.
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“I-I’m not ready,” I stammered, feeling a wave of panic. “This is too soon.”
The crowd around us started to murmur. I could hear gasps, and someone even whispered, “Did she just say no?”
Jeff’s face fell. The hopeful smile vanished, replaced by a look of utter betrayal. “You will regret this,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice low and menacing.
The atmosphere turned icy.
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Our families were in shock. My mom’s mouth was hanging open, and Jeff’s mom looked like she was about to cry. The magic of Disneyland was completely shattered.
We left shortly after, and the car ride home was filled with an unbearable silence. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just made a huge mistake, but deep down, I knew I wasn’t ready for marriage. Not yet.
When we got home, Jeff wouldn’t even look at me.
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I tried to explain how I felt, but he was having none of it.
“I thought we were on the same page,” he snapped. “I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you, Jeff,” I said, my voice shaking. “But this isn’t about love. It’s about being ready for a lifelong commitment. I’m just not there yet.”
He shook his head, looking more hurt than I’d ever seen him. “You embarrassed me in front of everyone. You’ll pay for that.”
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And that was just the beginning of the nightmare. I tried to give Jeff space, thinking things might calm down. Things were still tense between us, but he helped me fix some technical issues on my laptop and we even went out for dinner that weekend.
While I was daydreaming about our relationship getting back to normal, little did I know, Jeff had already put his revenge plan in motion. My life was about to be turned upside down.
That Monday, my boss called me into his office.
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“What have you done?” Mr. Barnes snapped once I entered. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”
“Find out about what, sir?” I asked, utterly bewildered by his questions.
“About this!” he replied, turning his laptop around so the screen faced me. I leaned in closer and my heart skipped a beat.
Confidential information for one of our top clients was going viral in an online forum. The documents being shared had our firm’s letterhead, and all of them came from cases I was working on.
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“I didn’t do this, Mr. Barnes, I swear!” I said. “We must’ve been hacked, or—”
“These files were shared from your laptop!” Mr. Barnes thumped his hand against his desk. “The IT department has confirmed it.
That’s when it hit me. Jeff had helped me fix my laptop when it was acting up the previous week. He must’ve shared the files to ruin my reputation. I started explaining the situation to Mr. Barnes, but he cut me off.
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“It doesn’t matter if your boyfriend shared the files,” he said. “The fact is, it happened under your watch. We can’t afford this kind of mistake, especially not now.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do everything in my power to fix this.”
“There is no fixing this, Mandy!” He yelled. “You’re fired.”
I couldn’t believe Jeff had done this to me. As I packed up my things, my colleagues avoided eye contact, whispers following me down the hallway.
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It felt like a bad dream I couldn’t wake up from.
When I got home, things took another turn for the worse. Jeff had moved out. He left me a note, if you could call it that, scribbled angrily on the back of an envelope: “You brought this on yourself.”
Not only had he left, but he trashed the place on his way out. The coffee table was shattered, the dining chairs were broken, and even the TV stand was in pieces.
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With the lease in my name, I was stuck covering the costs. Most of my savings were already tied up in student loans, and now I had to figure out how to pay for the damages.
I felt desperate, hurt, and utterly betrayed. How could someone I loved and trusted do this to me? Every day was a struggle, and I couldn’t believe my life had turned into such a mess.
One night, I made a decision. I wasn’t going to let Jeff get away with this.
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Over the months we were together, he had boasted about his involvement in insider trading and shady financial dealings. He thought he was invincible, but I knew better.
I started gathering evidence, recalling every detail he had let slip. It was a painstaking process, but it gave me a sense of purpose. I compiled everything into a detailed dossier, leveraging my legal skills to make it airtight.
Finally, I anonymously sent the dossier to his company’s HR department, the SEC, and several major clients.
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It was a risky move, but I had nothing left to lose.
As I hit send, I felt a mix of fear and relief. Fear of what might happen next, but relief that I was finally taking control of my life. I knew the fallout would be massive, but after everything Jeff had done, it felt justified.
A few days later, I got a call from one of our mutual friends.
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“Hey, have you heard about Jeff?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
“No, what happened?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but my heart was pounding.
“Apparently, he got called into a meeting at work, and they fired him on the spot. There was some kind of investigation, and now he’s in deep trouble.”
I hung up, feeling a mix of vindication and relief. But there was also a pang of guilt. Had I gone too far?
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Later that week, more news started to trickle in. Jeff’s company had launched a full-blown internal investigation, and the SEC was hot on his trail. Turns out the evidence I provided was more than enough to open a serious case against him.
Insider trading and financial fraud are no joke, and Jeff was facing the full brunt of the law.
One evening, I got another call—this time, from an old colleague who knew both of us.
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“You won’t believe this,” she said. “Jeff’s been blacklisted in the industry. No one wants to touch him with a ten-foot pole. Even his friends are distancing themselves.”
Hearing that, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. Jeff had always been so smug, so sure that he could get away with anything. Now, he was paying the price for his arrogance.
I had lost my job, my savings were drained, and my trust in people was shattered. But seeing Jeff face the consequences of his actions gave me a sense of closure.
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He had tried to break me, but in the end, it was his own downfall that was most spectacular.
Am I proud of what I did? Not entirely. Part of me wishes things could have ended differently. But another part of me knows that sometimes, justice has to be served, even if it means getting your hands a little dirty.
What do you think? Is my revenge justified or did I go too far?
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