And for once, I wanted to enjoy something without feeling guilty.
So I told my parents after closing.
My mother’s first question was:
“Does Priscilla get a key?”
I thought she was joking.
She wasn’t.
Dad went even further.
“She could stay there full-time,” he suggested. “It would be great for her social media brand.”
I stared at him.
“I’m sorry?”
“She could build her following from the beach. You could use it on weekends.”
“You mean I could visit my own house on weekends?”
Dad frowned.
“Don’t make it sound like that.”
“That is exactly what you’re asking me to do.”
He called me selfish.
Mom said I was being possessive.
Priscilla didn’t even look up from her phone.
I finally reminded them of the facts.
They hadn’t paid for my college.
They hadn’t paid my living expenses after I turned eighteen.
They hadn’t helped with my professional education.
They hadn’t helped me buy my first condo.
They hadn’t contributed to the beach house.
They had even missed my college graduation because Priscilla needed help moving.
I asked them a simple question.
“Why do you think you’re entitled to something you didn’t help me earn?”
Mom cried.
Dad called me ungrateful.
Priscilla stared at her phone.
And that should have been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
The pressure became relentless.
Family messages demanded access to the house.
Mom showed up at my office.
Dad promised Priscilla that she would eventually get a key.
A key to a house he didn’t own.
I changed the locks.
Installed additional security.
And stopped attending family events.
Three months later, my parents sued me.
Their argument was almost unbelievable.
They claimed their financial and emotional support had contributed to my success and therefore entitled them to an interest in the beach property.
Their attorney argued that, as their eldest daughter, I had a moral responsibility to share my success with Priscilla.
The lawsuit wasn’t really about ownership.
At least, that’s how it looked to me.
It was about pressure.
Make the legal process expensive enough.
Make me exhausted enough.
Make me afraid enough.
Eventually, they believed, I would give Priscilla access just to make the fight stop.
They underestimated me.
