Paid for my sister’s wedding, and my mother sent me a message: «You don’t have to come to the celebration. Your stepfather thinks you’re ruining the family photo.» The next morning they received a notification that made everyone in the family FURIOUS…

The warm September wind rustled the curtain in the living room, filling the room with the scent of fading leaves. Alex, sitting in his rented office, tapped his fingers on the desk while the computer processed another client request. The 35-year-old programmer with a stocky build and a red beard that he had been growing for the last five years looked atypical for his profession, more like a lumberjack or a biker.

But behind the unconventional appearance hid one of the best cybersecurity specialists in the city. The phone vibrated. Mom appeared on the screen.

Alex, do you remember that Mary’s engagement is this Saturday? His mother’s voice sounded casual, as if talking about a trip to the store. Of course, I remember, Alex leaned back in his chair, looking at the framed photo on the desk, a picture of the three-bedroom apartment in downtown Chicago, where his childhood had passed. The apartment that formally belonged to him.

Victor thinks we should book the restaurant «River North Grill,» his mother continued. But you understand. Alex smirked.

Victor thinks—this phrase had haunted him for the last 15 years, ever since his stepfather appeared in their home. Victor Peterson, a minor clerk in the city administration, with his eternally perfectly ironed shirts and a folder he carried under his arm like some symbol of power, entered their life when Alex was 20. «I’ll take care of the restaurant,» Alex replied.

— And everything else too. This is my sister, after all. Hanging up, he sighed and looked at the clock.

In half an hour, he had to be at a meeting with a client, but his thoughts kept returning to the apartment story. The inheritance story began almost 10 years ago. After his parents’ divorce, his father, a senior engineer in a construction company, decided to transfer the three-bedroom apartment to his son.

«This is your insurance, buddy,» his father said then, patting him on the shoulder. «Your mother might marry anyone, but no one will kick you out of the house.» Two years later, his father died of a heart attack.

Alex was 23, he had just graduated from college and started working as a programmer. That’s when Victor appeared. Short, fit, with a neat haircut and manners designed to emphasize his intellect.

From the beginning, the stepfather tried to emphasize how much Alex didn’t fit his idea of a decent family. «You should lose some weight, Alex,» he would say, giving his stepson an appraising look. «And those jeans of yours.

Is that how a person with a higher education should look?» At the time, Alex just shrugged. He quickly got promoted, started earning enough to rent his own apartment. Moving out seemed like the best solution, especially since his mother tearfully asked to leave the apartment to them.

«Alex, where will Victor and I go? He only has his salary, and I’m retired. Mary is still in school.» His mother didn’t skimp on emotions when it came to money and real estate.

Alex agreed. Let them live, after all, it’s family. He moved out, leaving his relatives to live in his own apartment for free.

No contracts, just a verbal agreement. Five years flew by unnoticed. Alex built a career, earned a reputation, made good connections in the tech sphere.

In his wallet, there was always a card from which his mother could withdraw money for unforeseen expenses. Major repairs, new furniture, education for his sister—all of it fell on Alex’s shoulders. «You can’t imagine how proud Victor is of the new furnishings,» his mother reported over the phone…