The day my cousin brought his girlfriend home, I was branded a leech. The moment she walked in, she shot me a look of pure disgust. "So, you're the cousin who's squatting in my boyfriend's villa and refuses to leave?" I was utterly baffled. It was true that I lived here. But this villa was my inheritance, left to me by my parents. My name was on the deed. Out of love for my family, I’d had our housekeeper prepare a room for my cousin, Peter, so he could have a foothold while trying to make it on his own. How did him getting a girlfriend suddenly turn me into the penniless relative mooching off his success? 1 When my cousin Peter walked in with his new girlfriend, I was on the veranda, watering my mother's camellias. The girlfriend, Chloe, was dressed to the nines. From the moment she stepped through the door, her eyes swept across the villa, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she nodded in approval. It wasn't until she reached the veranda and saw me in my simple loungewear that her brow furrowed in distaste. "So," she said, her voice dripping with disdain, "you must be the freeloading cousin who's been sponging off Peter." I just stared at her, completely blindsided. Peter heard her and came over. Chloe's expression instantly melted into a saccharine smile. "Peter, darling, aren't you going to introduce us?" My cousin smiled, oblivious. "Chloe, this is my cousin, Betty. We grew up together. She's the closest thing I have to a sister in this city." Chloe crossed her arms, her eyes raking over me in a dismissive once-over. "She's... cute enough, I suppose. If you can get past the shamelessness." I looked at Peter, waiting. He finally spoke, though his tone was gentle. "Chloe, don't joke like that." But Chloe had no intention of stopping. She pressed her body against my cousin's, her voice a syrupy-sweet poison. "Oh, I'm not joking! Before I even came here, your friends told me what a kind heart you have, taking in a relative with nowhere else to go. I thought they meant a child, or maybe some poor soul who'd lost a limb. I never imagined a perfectly healthy adult would just... live off someone else. It's quite an eye-opener." My voice was ice. "Taking me in? Living off him? Which one of Peter's friends told you that?" The air in the living room seemed to crystallize. Peter’s brow tightened. "Chloe, who's been filling your head with this nonsense? Betty is family. She's the heart of this home. There's no 'taking in' about it." He added, trying to smooth things over, "Don't say things like that. You'll upset her." Chloe quickly covered her mouth with a theatrical gasp, her eyes, full of mischief, darting towards me. "Oh, Peter, don't be so serious! I must have misheard. I'll apologize to Betty, of course." She paused, her gaze lingering on me. "It's just that I’ve heard so many people talking. They all say you’re too good for your own good, working so hard to build a life for yourself while also carrying... a burden." Her eyes swept over me again, her tone becoming a caricature of innocence. "And then seeing Betty today, so young and full of life, but not even working... It just breaks my heart to see you carrying all that weight on your own." Before I could retort, she was clutching Peter's arm. "But I'm not the kind of person who can't accept family. From now on, I won't listen to gossip." She turned back to me. "Don't you worry, Betty. Since Peter said so, I'll treat you just like a real sister. It's just one more plate at the table, right?" Chloe was beautiful, and she knew exactly what to say to wrap my cousin around her little finger. But a cold knot of dread was tightening in my stomach. From the moment she walked in, she'd been trying to paint me as a parasite. Her so-called apology was just another way of hammering home the labels of "freeloader" and "burden," reinforcing the fiction that I was here only by Peter's charity. My fingers curled into a fist. Yes, we both lived here. But this villa belonged to me. It was a legacy from my parents, along with enough assets to ensure I’d live comfortably for the rest of my life. After their accident, it was my aunt and uncle—Peter's parents—who had insisted he move to the city to keep me company. It was as much for my sake as it was to give him a chance at a better life. I had agreed out of a sense of family loyalty, cherishing the bond we'd shared for over a decade. And now, because he had a girlfriend, I was suddenly a leech? But it was her first time here. For Peter's sake, I held my tongue. Dinner was suffocating. Chloe, sensing Peter's affection for me, spent the entire meal trying to backtrack. She served me food, poured my water, and swore she would respect all of Peter's decisions. But whenever our eyes met, I saw it—the undisguised contempt, the raw hostility. I kept my expression neutral, but I felt sick to my stomach. As soon as dinner was over, Peter stepped out onto the veranda to take a call. I was about to head upstairs when Chloe shot up from her seat, grabbing my arm and pulling me down onto the sofa. She patted my hand with a sickeningly fake affection. "Betty, please don't be mad at me. I was just worried about Peter, and my mouth ran away from me. I didn't mean to upset you." She blinked her big, innocent eyes. "Actually, I completely understand what you're going through. I really do." I stared at her, my face a blank mask, and tried to pull my arm away. "Understand what?" "How difficult this must be for you," she said, her brow furrowed with a look of condescending pity. "You see, Peter has me now. We're going to get married." She leaned in closer. "And you... well, you're living here for now, but this isn't really your home, is it?" Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Once Peter and I are married, it'll be awkward for you to still be living with us. A girl has to think about her future, you know." I looked at her, and a wave of incredulous laughter threatened to bubble up. "I'm sorry, Miss... Chloe, was it? I don't understand. I'm in my own house. What future do I need to consider?" 2 For a fleeting second, the smile on Chloe’s face froze, then quickly snapped back into place. She let go of my arm and patted my shoulder, adopting the tone of someone sharing a secret they both knew. "I get it. A girl has her pride. It's okay." She leaned in, her voice dropping. "But don't you worry. Once I'm the mistress of this house, if you play your cards right, I'll have Peter find you a nice little place before you have to move out." That was it. I stood up, my patience shredded, and looked down at her. "Let me make a few things crystal clear for you, Chloe." "First, this is my house. I'm not going anywhere." "Second, the only mistress of this house is me. And it will always be me." "And finally, I don't need you or my cousin to arrange a single thing for me." The mask finally shattered. Chloe’s face contorted with rage, her eyes burning into mine as her voice turned shrill. "Don't you push me, Betty! Just because Peter calls you his cousin, you think you're the queen of the castle? You're a pathetic parasite, a leech clinging to his kindness. What right do you have to talk to me like that?" "Right?" My voice was dangerously calm. "My rights aren't for you to decide." "But you, on the other hand… on your very first visit, you're already planning your takeover. Are you and Peter even engaged? Perhaps you should figure out your own place before you try to put me in mine." "You—!" Chloe’s face was scarlet with fury, and she looked ready to explode. But just then, Peter walked back in from the veranda, his phone call finished. Instantly, Chloe’s entire demeanor shifted. Her face crumpled as if she’d been dealt a mortal blow, her eyes welling up with tears. She rushed to his side, burying her face in his chest. "Peter…" she whimpered, whispering something in his ear. I had no interest in watching her performance. I turned to go upstairs. "Betty." My cousin's voice stopped me. It was tinged with reproach. "It's Chloe's first time here. Maybe she didn't express herself clearly. Don't be so sensitive." I glanced back at Chloe, who was peeking out from behind his arm, a triumphant smirk on her face. A fire ignited in my chest. "Peter," I said, my voice low and steady. "She called me a burden who only lives here because of your charity. She said that after you two get married, I'll have to move out." I held his gaze. "She's planning that far ahead. Do you really think she just 'didn't express herself clearly'?" His frown deepened. "She was just kidding around. Why are you taking it so seriously? This will always be your home. Chloe didn't mean it like that." Didn't mean it like that? I took a deep breath, realizing it was pointless to argue. He had already chosen to believe his girlfriend was a delicate, innocent flower who didn’t know any better. Anything I said would just be me, being difficult. "Fine," I said, shaking my head. Without another look at him, I walked straight up the stairs. That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, sleep a million miles away. Was Peter really that clueless? Or was he just pretending not to see what Chloe truly was? The next day, my best friend, Jess, noticed something was wrong and dragged me out for lunch. We sat down at a quiet bistro, and she asked gently, "Okay, spill. What’s bothering you?" I sighed. "My cousin brought his girlfriend home." Jess paused, her fork hovering over her plate. "Isn't that a good thing? He gets married, and he finally moves out! Unless…" I said nothing. "What's she like?" Jess pressed. "Is she nice? Pretty?" I managed a weak smile. "She's pretty. As for nice… she radiates pure malice." Jess's eyes widened. "Malice? Shouldn't she be worshiping the ground you walk on? Without you, Peter would be struggling to pay rent in a shoebox, not living in one of the most exclusive villas in the state." "I don't know what he told her," I said, "but she seems to think I'm some poor relative he took in off the street. She called me shameless." Jess slammed her hand on the table, her voice rising. "What the hell? Is she insane? Who does she think she is, talking to you like that?" Her face was flushed with anger. "This house is yours! Your parents left it to you! What gives her the right? And Peter? He just stood there and let her bully you?" "He said she was just joking, and that I was being too sensitive," I mumbled, feeling exhausted all over again. "Joking? The malice in that statement is so thick you could cut it with a knife! Is your cousin deaf?" Jess was practically seething on my behalf. "She's trying to push you out and take over, Betty! She's warning you not to get in her way of becoming the lady of the manor! That manipulative, social-climbing witch! It's disgusting! And stupid! Does she really think your family's fortune belongs to Peter? Why are people so obsessed with other people's money?" Listening to my friend's tirade eased some of the tightness in my chest. "It's fine," I said, trying to convince myself as much as her. "She won't last. Peter's been single forever; he's just happy to have found someone. I'll just avoid her from now on." But Jess wasn't having it. "You can't just let this go! The next time she tries to pull a stunt like that, you shove the deed to the house in her face and show her who's boss!" 3 Despite Jess's advice, I couldn't bring myself to be that confrontational. I still cared about my decade-long relationship with Peter. My aunt and uncle were some of the only family I had left, and they’d always been kind to me when my parents were alive. I didn't want to burn that bridge. But I had no idea that my tolerance would be mistaken for weakness. That very evening, Chloe showed up with several large suitcases and moved herself in. It was as if our conversation had never happened. She seemed determined to cement my status as the parasitic freeloader, to assert her dominance, drive me out of my own home, and claim her prize. She paraded around like she owned the place, making a point to be overly affectionate with Peter whenever I was around, as if to prove how unshakable their bond was. Then, she started criticizing every aspect of my life. "That blue and white porcelain vase by your bedroom door… is that an antique? It's so dangerous just sitting there. What if it gets knocked over? It must have cost a fortune to replace, right?" "And these curtains, this rug… God, they're hideous. This house is really suffering without a woman's touch." She even started snooping into my finances. "You must spend a lot, Betty. I see you use all those high-end skincare brands. You know, you don't really need all that fancy stuff. It's all about value for money." Her voice took on a chiding tone. "Peter works so hard. As his cousin, you should really be more considerate of his finances." I ignored her, letting her live in her delusional fantasy world. But a few days later, I came home to find that things had been moved. My mother's favorite painting, a beautiful landscape that had hung in the hall for years, was gone. In its place was a cheap, garish acrylic canvas that reeked of chemicals. And the antique vase from outside my bedroom? It had vanished, replaced by a massive bouquet of funereal-smelling lilies. I found Chloe in the living room, directing our housekeeper, Mrs. Wolf, to move furniture. My voice was cold steel. "Where is the vase that was by my door?" Chloe turned, her expression one of utter entitlement. "Oh, that old thing? It was so dated, completely clashed with the decor. I had Mrs. Wolf put it in storage. Don't worry, I'll be redecorating the whole house bit by bit." "Where in storage?" "There's so much junk in there, I can't possibly remember." I pressed on. She waved a dismissive hand. "Honestly, it's just a vase. Why are you making such a fuss? I'm busy. I'll have someone bring it to you when I find it." I grabbed her arm, my voice shaking with rage. "Who gave you permission to touch my things? If it's missing, I swear, you'll regret it." That vase was a tenth-birthday gift from my father. It was more than an object; it was a vessel of memory, of a love I could never get back. Peter rushed over at the sound of our raised voices. He immediately went to Chloe's side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and scowling at me. "Betty, Chloe was just trying to make the house look nicer. It's just a decoration. Don't be so dramatic. If it's really lost, I'll buy you a new one." I stared at the two of them, standing together like a fortress against me, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I didn't waste another breath on them. I went straight to Mrs. Wolf. The housekeeper looked distressed. "Miss Betty, I'm so sorry. Miss Chloe said she didn't like it and told me to put it in the storeroom." I searched the entire storeroom, top to bottom. The vase was nowhere to be found. A dark, sickening premonition crept over me. That antique vase wasn't just a decoration. It was a rare piece my father had won at auction for over two million dollars. Chloe hadn't just put it away. She had done something with it. 4 The tension in the house was unbearable, so I was relieved to leave for a three-day business trip. But when I returned, my home was in chaos. Chloe, in a bid to show off her new status as mistress of a grand estate, had invited a horde of her tacky friends over for a party. The bass of some generic pop song was so loud it rattled the windows. A crowd of garishly dressed men and women were in the garden, having a barbecue and live-streaming the entire disaster. But my last shred of restraint evaporated when I saw what was happening in the corner of the garden. Chloe's friends were laughing, competing to see who could pick the biggest camellia bloom, then callously tossing the flowers to the ground and grinding the delicate petals into the dirt with their heels. That camellia bush was my mother's pride and joy. After she passed, I tended to it myself, never letting anyone so much as touch a single leaf. And they were desecrating it. In that instant, a white-hot rage burned through every last ounce of my patience. I stormed past them and ripped the speaker's power cord from the wall. As the music died and all eyes turned to me, I pointed a trembling finger at the gate, my voice as cold and sharp as broken glass. "You have three minutes. Get all of your friends, and get the hell out of my garden." Chloe, mortified at being embarrassed in front of her friends, rushed over and grabbed my arm. "Betty, what are you doing? Everyone was having fun!" "I said get out. Didn't you hear me?" I shook her off, my gaze an icy glare. The atmosphere turned painfully awkward. Chloe's friends started gathering their things, muttering under their breath. Within moments, Chloe was running to Peter, sobbing. When Peter arrived, he took one look at the mess and, without asking a single question, turned his fury on me. "Are you insane?! It's the first time Chloe's friends have come over, and you humiliate her like this? Over a few stupid flowers? Is that really necessary?!" "Stupid flowers?" I looked at him, and my heart turned to stone. "Chloe might not know what these flowers mean, but you do. This is the only living thing my mother left me!" "She's gone! What's the point of holding onto all this stuff?" he yelled, his words careless and cruel. "Stop acting like a spoiled princess! You want flowers? I'll have a whole new garden planted for you tomorrow, alright?" "Replace them?" I stared at this man, this stranger who wore my cousin's face. "With what, Peter? How are you going to replace my mother's memory?" Chloe chimed in, her voice shrill with indignation. "What is wrong with you? I don't care if it was a graveyard! Nothing gets in the way of my party!" That was the last straw. I lunged forward, grabbed a handful of Chloe's hair, and slapped her. Hard. Peter tried to intervene, and I spun around and slapped him too. "From this day forward, she is not welcome in this house! And you, Peter," I spat, my voice shaking, "if you're going to stand by her, then you can both get out!" 5 It was the first time I had ever spoken to him with such finality. He stared at me, stunned, his face a mask of disbelief, as if he were seeing me for the first time. After a long, heavy silence, something seemed to click in his mind. His tone softened, and he started backpedaling. "Betty, don't be angry. I'll talk to Chloe. I'll make it right." Later, Chloe offered a grudging, insincere apology. Peter swore to me that if I just didn't kick him out, he would take better care of the family business and protect the things my parents had left behind. I nodded silently. I had almost forgotten. In the years since my parents' passing, I had put him in charge of managing several subsidiary companies. That must have been where his newfound confidence came from. But he was no longer entitled to any of it. I was going to take it all back, piece by piece. After the party fiasco, Chloe's hatred for me intensified. She felt I had publicly humiliated her. But she was too scared to challenge me openly again, so she resorted to a campaign of petty, insidious revenge. She began to encroach on my personal space with a vengeance. "Betty, your study is just sitting empty most of the time. I need a quiet place to work, so I'm just going to use it from now on, okay?" "And your walk-in closet is huge. I have no room for my clothes, so I'm just borrowing a little bit of your rack space." She would even sneak into my bedroom when I was out, rifling through my things and leaving a trail of disarray. One day, I noticed a bracelet I kept in my nightstand was missing. When I confronted her, she immediately burst into tears, looking at me with wide, wounded eyes. "What bracelet? I haven't seen any bracelet! Betty, how could you accuse me of something so awful? Just because you can't keep track of your own things doesn't mean you can blame me!" This time, Peter didn't try to play mediator. He was genuinely angry. "Chloe! Why were you in Betty's room? That bracelet is very important to her! Give it back!" The two of them had a massive fight. Chloe stopped her open provocations, but her resentment festered, channeling itself into a more subtle, poisonous tactic. She started whispering in Peter's ear, planting seeds of doubt about my presence in the house. "Peter, darling, Betty's a grown woman now." "It's not really proper for her to be living under the same roof as you. Think about what people will say. It's not good for her reputation." "And when we get married… we can't have her living with us forever, can we? It would just be so... awkward." This time, my cousin was silent. That evening, he came to me, his expression hesitant. "Betty," he began, struggling to find the words. "Chloe... she might have a point. You're a young woman. Living with me… it isn't ideal." He couldn't meet my eyes. "What if... what if I found you a really nice apartment somewhere? I'll pay the rent, of course. It's just that… it's a lot more complicated for two people to move than for one person." I looked at him in disbelief. This man, whom I had always considered my brother, who had shared my childhood. In that moment, I finally understood. Chloe’s constant scheming, her relentless campaign of whispers and lies, had worked. A decade of family loyalty had been eroded, day by day, until it was unrecognizable. He was no longer the cousin who protected me. He now saw me as the problem. The inconvenience. He had forgotten that everything he had, he owed to the very family he was now trying to push me out of. My heart, already fractured, began to sink. After Peter suggested I move out, a profound sadness settled over me. How could someone who shared my blood turn on me for a stranger? I locked myself in my room for a full day, replaying memories from our childhood, searching for the moment the cracks began to form. But I couldn't find it. All I wanted was to protect the home my parents left me, to hold on to the last vestiges of our family. Why was that so hard? Chloe, however, seemed to take Peter's new attitude as a green light. Her behavior became even more brazen. She started acting as the full-fledged mistress of the house, ordering Mrs. Wolf around. "From now on, I want to approve all the weekly menus. I know Peter's tastes best." "And you don't need to clean Betty's room every day. There's no need to waste so much effort on... an outsider." Mrs. Wolf, who had been with our family since I was a child, was furious and tried to argue with Chloe several times, but I held her back. I knew there was no point in reasoning with someone like that. Peter’s bias grew more and more obvious. It was as if Chloe had cast a spell on him. He truly believed that everything she did was for his benefit, for the little family they were building together. And I had become the obstacle. The selfish, ungrateful girl standing in the way of their happiness. "Betty, Chloe is just trying to look out for me. You need to be more understanding." "She doesn't have a mean bone in her body. She's just a little… direct." His words were like a dull knife, twisting in a wound that would not heal. Anger and grief warred within me. I looked at my own pale, exhausted face in the mirror. Enough. This had to end. I came home early from work one afternoon and heard Chloe and Peter arguing in the living room before I even opened the door. Chloe's voice was sharp and cruel. "Peter, are you a man or not? This house is supposed to be yours, so what are you doing living here like some kind of kept man?" "You need to get her out of here, now! Or this wedding is off!" A tremor went through me. I froze, my hand on the doorknob. I expected Peter to defend me, to at least say something, like he used to. Instead, all I heard was his tired, defeated voice. "Chloe, stop it. The house... it was left to Betty by her parents." "You lied to me? You told me this house was yours!" Chloe shrieked. Peter didn't respond. After a moment of silence, Chloe's voice dropped, turning sly and conspiratorial. "Then get her to sign it over to you! She's a girl; she'll get married and leave eventually. Her parents are dead, so you're all she has now. It's only right that the house should be yours." Her next words were a venomous whisper. "It's called securing your inheritance. Who cares about the old ways? Once the deed is in your name, everything will be fine." The living room fell into a long, heavy silence. My heart plunged into a cold, dark abyss. I held my breath, waiting for my cousin's answer. Would he agree? Would he actually do it? After what felt like an eternity, I heard him sigh. "...Let me think about it."
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