My Wife Broke My Hand for My Brother

"Just forget it. I don't want Grandpa's inheritance," Wyatt Ashcroft said. "Stop fighting with Tamara over me."

I looked at the transfer papers in his hand. He said he didn't want any of it, but his fingers gripped the documents so tight his knuckles turned white. He had always been like this, for as long as I could remember.

When he was six, he cried and said he was too scared to sleep alone, so Dad gave him my bedroom. He hugged me and promised he'd give it back once he got used to it, but I ended up spending 12 years in a windowless storage room, and he never moved out.

When he was 18, he set his eyes on the watch Grandpa gave me. He cried and said he couldn't take something that belonged to his brother, then lowered his head and let Dad strap it onto his wrist. To this day, that watch still sat in his display case.

When he was 25, he set his sights on my fiancée. But that time, I didn't give in.

Tamara Kelton held my hand in front of everyone and told Wyatt, "I'm only ever going to marry Emmett."

She turned down every work opportunity just to watch a single sunrise with me. She stayed up all night by my bed when I was sick, insisting on feeding me every dose of my medication herself. I thought I'd finally been chosen, that someone had chosen me without hesitation.

But in our third year of marriage, I was running a 104-degree fever while all Wyatt had was a stomachache, and she left me home alone to drive through a rainstorm and bring him medicine. I collapsed in the bathroom and nearly ended up with severe pneumonia.

When I came to, she frowned at me. "Wyatt couldn't reach you. He was so worried he didn't sleep all night. Why did you have to get sick right now?"

That was when I finally understood. She married me, but Wyatt was always the one she wanted to protect.

"Are you still hurting?" Wyatt crouched in front of me now, tears streaming down his face.

Tamara pulled him to his feet immediately. "Don't touch him. You'll get your clothes dirty."

She took Wyatt's hands and said softly, "The hotel, the family home, and the shares all belong to you starting today. Grandpa favored Emmett all these years. You should have had your share too."

Wyatt stepped closer to her and shook his head. "But all of that is supposed to be his."

Tamara finally looked at me with nothing but impatience. "Emmett, you've been part of the Kelton family for seven years. You're not exactly wanting for anything.

"Wyatt has always been in poor health, and he doesn't have your drive. He just wants a little security. Do you really have to fight your own brother over this?"

A little security? That was everything Grandpa spent his entire life building, everything he left to me, and the only things in this family that were ever clearly, explicitly mine.

"Wyatt took care of Grandpa for three years. This should all go to him!" Mom pointed at me, screaming.

"Your grandfather just died, and all you can think about is fighting over his estate. How did we end up raising such a heartless son?"

Dad shielded Wyatt behind him, on guard like I might lash out at any second. "Wyatt wore himself to the ground taking care of your grandfather. You're his own grandson, but you didn't lift a finger. What right do you have to any of it?"

I laughed.

For the three years Grandpa was seriously ill, I commuted between two cities every single day. When the pain kept him up at night, I knelt beside his bed and rubbed his legs until he fell asleep.

When he couldn't eat, I learned to prepare meals that followed his dietary plan and fed him one spoonful at a time.

Wyatt showed up exactly once, the week before Grandpa died. He brought a photographer along, posed for a few shots at the bedside holding a cup of water and dabbing at the old man's face.

The second the camera turned off, he let go of Grandpa's hand and asked the nurse whether Grandpa had anything contagious.

But now he was the devoted grandson who spent three years by our grandfather's side, and I was the ungrateful one who never did a thing.

They all knew the truth. It was just easier this way, easier to take everything from me without having to feel guilty about it.

I looked up at Tamara. "Grandpa's will clearly states that everything goes to me. He would never leave any of it to Wyatt."

Tamara's expression didn't change. "Wills can be amended."

I looked at the forged signature on the waiver. In his final years, Grandpa's right hand had been too weak to write steadily, and his strokes always drifted downward. The signature on this document was smooth and firm.

"You know this is a forgery."

Something flickered behind Tamara's eyes, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the same cold composure.

"It doesn't matter whether it's real or fake. What matters is that Wyatt needs these things more than you do. You're capable. Even without the inheritance, you can start over, but he can't."

So because I was capable, I deserved to have everything taken from me. And because Wyatt was fragile, he was entitled to everything.

I shoved the bodyguards off me and forced myself to my feet through the blinding pain of my broken finger. "Fine. I don't want the estate, the hotel, or the shares. None of it."

Both my parents let out a breath of relief at the same time. Dad pulled Wyatt into his arms, crying with joy. "Did you hear that, Wyatt? It's all yours."

Mom finally smiled. "You've suffered so much, sweetheart. Things are finally going to look up for you."

Nobody asked if my hand was okay. Blood dripped from my fingertip and landed on the ground in front of Grandpa's grave. They all crowded around Wyatt to celebrate, the same way they had every other time he'd taken something that was mine over the past twenty-some years.

Only this time, I wasn't planning to stay behind and pick up the pieces.

I pulled off my wedding ring and tossed it at Tamara's feet. "And you. Wyatt's always had a thing for you, hasn't he? I don't want you either."

The color drained from Tamara's face. "Emmett, what the hell are you doing?"

"I want a divorce."

A flash of wild delight shot through Wyatt's eyes, but he scrambled to cover it. "I never wanted to come between you two. Please don't divorce Tamara because of me."

He begged me to reconsider while gripping Tamara's arm. She didn't push him away. She just stared at me coldly.

"You think throwing the word divorce around is going to make me back down? Walk out of here today, and you're no longer a part of the Kelton family."

Dad jumped in immediately. "If you leave, you're no longer our son."

Mom waved impatiently toward the cemetery gates. "Go on, get out. Without the Ashcrofts or the Keltons behind you, I'd love to see how long you last."

"Fine."

I walked into the rain alone. Behind me, I heard Dad fussing over Wyatt catching a cold, while Mom promised to transfer the shares to him first thing tomorrow.

Tamara murmured in a low voice, "Emmett's just throwing a tantrum. Once he's had a taste of what it's like out there, he'll come back and apologize on his own."

But none of them knew I had been waiting for this day for three long years.

Outside the cemetery, Grandpa's lawyer, Leonard Birch, was already waiting. His eyes went to my bloodied hand and his expression turned grim. "Who did that?"

"Business first."

I took the documents he held out. What Grandpa left me was never just the assets listed in the will.

Three years ago, he already knew my parents would try to seize the inheritance for Wyatt, so he had quietly transferred the most important creditor claims against both the Ashcroft and Kelton families into my name.

The hotels, the estate, and the shares they just fought so hard to take from me were nothing but bait I'd left on purpose.

Leonard leaned in. "What do you want to do?"

I looked back toward the cemetery through the curtain of rain. When I was a boy, Grandpa once told me, "Choosing to yield shows your character. But the second someone starts thinking they can take whatever they want from you, you make sure they learn what it costs."

For years, I could never bring myself to do it. But now I finally had no family left, and that meant there was no reason to hold back anymore.

I closed the folder and spoke evenly. "In seven days, cut off all financial support to the Ashcrofts. And when the Keltons' debts come due, grant them no extension."

"And if they can't pay?" Leonard asked.

I looked at the asset list and smiled. "Then we take back everything they just handed to Wyatt, one piece at a time, and not just Grandpa's estate. The Ashcrofts, the Keltons, everything they care about most…I want all of it."