When my father passed, my half-sister Lara got the house, and I got an old chessboard. It felt like a final insult until I noticed one of the pieces rattling. His voice echoed in my mind, “Life is a chess game win by seeing three moves ahead.” That board wasn’t just sentimental; it was a message, a clue he left just for me.

At the park, I opened the box and began playing alone when Lara appeared, mocking me. She swept the board dramatically, scattering the pieces, but one felt heavier it clicked. I discovered hidden stones inside, and Lara’s eyes flicked toward me, sharp with interest. She invited me to dinner that night, smiling too sweetly, already plotting her next move.

That evening, she played the perfect daughter, serving food and pretending peace. I placed the closed chessboard on the console where she could see it, and sure enough, I caught her later prying it open. She found the hidden pouch but it was a trap. I’d swapped the real gems for glass beads and waited for her to reveal herself.

As she gloated, I pulled out the real will hidden in the chessboard case all along. Dad had left everything to me, if Lara chose greed over grace. Her mother said nothing as Lara’s face drained of color. I looked them both in the eye and said softly, “Checkmate.”