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A Year After My Mom D.ied, Her Ex with His New Girlfriend Tried to Kick Me Out of My Own House—But I Gave Them a Reality Check They Didn’t See Coming

Posted on July 7, 2025 By Aga Co No Comments on A Year After My Mom D.ied, Her Ex with His New Girlfriend Tried to Kick Me Out of My Own House—But I Gave Them a Reality Check They Didn’t See Coming

It had been a year since my mother passed away when I came home to find my suitcases stacked by the front door — and a stranger lounging on the couch, wrapped in my mom’s robe like she owned the place. My late mother’s ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend looked me straight in the eyes, smirked, and told me it was time for me to move out.

She had no idea whose house she was standing in.

I pushed the door open, dragging my suitcase behind me. The air inside smelled of greasy takeout and cheap floral perfume — nothing like the warm, clean scent I remembered from childhood. My mom always kept the house spotless, filled with life and comfort.

Then I saw them — my bags. Neatly packed. Set by the door as if someone had carefully arranged my departure.

My heart pounded.

From the living room, the TV murmured. I stepped forward and stopped cold.

A woman sat sprawled on the couch like royalty. Long legs crossed, wine glass in hand, flipping through TV channels with smug ease. Her smirk grew when she saw me. But what truly stunned me?

She was wearing my mother’s robe.

She looked me over like I didn’t belong. “Oh, you’re back earlier than we thought,” she said casually.

“And you are?” I asked, my tone sharper than intended.

She didn’t blink. “Tasha. Colin’s fiancée.”

Colin — my mother’s ex-boyfriend. The man she never married but once loved. The one I reluctantly let stay after she passed, honoring her dying wish.

My jaw clenched. “Where’s Colin?”

“Running errands,” she said, twirling her wine. “He told me about you. Look, honey, Colin and I need the space now. It’s time for you to move on.”

I stared at her, stunned. “This is my house.”

She laughed lightly. “Sure it is. I know Colin was kind to let you stay, but come on—you’re grown. Time to start your life.”

I stood my ground. “Colin doesn’t own this house.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “We’ve got a lawyer coming soon. He’ll explain.”

My hands trembled, but I stayed composed. I wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t yell. Wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

“I’ll wait,” I said.

Her smile faltered.

I sat down across from her, arms folded, heart pounding.

I remembered the hospital room — my mother, pale and fading, holding my hand.

“This house is yours, Mia,” she whispered. “I made sure everything’s in order. You’ll be okay.”

Through my tears, I nodded. “Okay, Mom.”

And then she added, already looking past me toward the door, “Don’t throw Colin out right away. Give him some time. He’s not perfect, but… he loved me once.”

I honored that. Even though Colin was jobless, aimless, and had long overstayed the “few weeks” he promised. Even when he started erasing my mother — removing her photos, her belongings, throwing parties, acting like he owned the place.

And now this woman thought she could kick me out?

Colin walked in twenty minutes later, full of smug energy. He greeted Tasha with a kiss like it was just another day.

“Guess she got the message,” he said.

Tasha giggled. “She’s being very mature about it.”

Colin turned to me. “You’ve had plenty of time, Mia. Thought you’d be reasonable.”

Then the doorbell rang.

I stood. “That’ll be the lawyer.”

Colin’s face twisted. “What?”

I opened the door to a man in a sharp suit holding a leather briefcase. “Good afternoon. I’m Mr. Edwards, your mother’s attorney,” he said, nodding to me before turning to Colin. “You must be the… guest.”

He placed a folder on the table. “According to your mother’s will, this property and all her assets were left solely to Mia. You have no legal claim to any of it.”

Colin’s face drained. “Wait, what?”

Mr. Edwards stayed calm. “You’ve been staying here without a lease or permission. That qualifies as trespassing.”

Tasha whipped her head toward him. “You told me this house was yours!”

“I—I thought—” Colin stammered.

“You LIED to me?” she shrieked, grabbing her purse. “I’m done with this.” She shot me a look — more humiliated than angry — and walked out without another word.

Colin started to follow. “Babe, wait—”

The door slammed behind her.

He turned back to me, sheepish. “Look, kid—”

I raised a hand. “Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe we can talk. I’ve been here a year—”

“That’s called squatting,” Mr. Edwards said flatly. “You have 24 hours to leave or face legal action.”

Then came another knock — this time, two uniformed officers.

“Mr. Colin Banks?” one asked. “You’ve been formally notified. You must vacate this property within 24 hours.”

Colin’s voice cracked. “But… where do I go?”

I shrugged. “Not my concern.”

The officer added, “Start packing. Now.”

That night, I lay in bed listening to drawers open, boxes being filled, and footsteps echo down the hallway.

I thought I’d feel victorious. But instead, I felt… still.

The next morning, I woke to silence. For the first time in over a year, the house was mine again.

I stood in the living room and looked at my mother’s photo — back on the mantle where it belonged. I had found it buried under a pile of Colin’s junk.

I picked it up, running my fingers over the frame.

“I did it, Mom,” I whispered.

Some mistake kindness for weakness. But setting boundaries?

That’s where true strength begins.

And finally — finally — I was home.

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