When our father died, my half-sister Lara inherited the house. I got a

dusty old chessboard. I thought it was his final insult—one last jab from

a man who always played favorites. Lara, of course, laughed. “A house for me,

a hobby for you,” she said with that smug little smirk she always wore.

But that night, something strange happened. One of the pieces rattled

when I picked it up. I tapped it. Something shifted inside. Later, in her usual dramatic fashion,

Lara knocked the whole board over during an argument. A knight hit the

floor—and clicked. That’s when the truth started to surface. Lara crept

downstairs after midnight, carving the pieces open with a kitchen knife.

Inside, she found tiny, glittering stones. “Gems!” she gasped.

“Looks like I win again.” But she didn’t know I had already been there. I had found them first—and swapped them out.

The real valuables? Safe in a deposit box under my name. But that wasn’t

even the final move. Inside a hollow square under the felt lining,

I found something else: a second will. One our father had hidden, just in case.

His final message read: “If you are honest, you may live together in peace.

If not, everything belongs to Kate.” Lara had played the game like she

always did—greedy, selfish, short-sighted. And she lost. “Checkmate,” I whispered.