Parents Kicked Me Out for False Rumor Spread by My Brother. Years Later They See My Succes

Kicked out as a teen for false rumors spread by my brother, years later, parents see my success and demand money after they abandon me. I am a 28-year-old female with a twin brother. Growing up, my twin brother and I experienced very different treatment from our parents.

My parents genuinely seemed convinced, for some reason, that my brother was destined for greatness while I was the so-called Black Sheep just because I was more interested in playing sports or making new friends than studying. They constantly compared us, which was demoralizing and bruised my self-esteem from a young age. As a child, I had to watch my brother have extravagant parties on our birthday with his friends while I was treated like an afterthought.

He often had sleepovers with his friends while I was never even allowed to bring my friends back to our place. To be honest, I loathed every minute of my childhood. The only person in the family who seemed to care about me was my grandmother.

When she visited us, she always brought me my favorite chocolates and occasionally slipped a few dollars to me so that I could treat myself later. As the years passed, this blatant favoritism for my twin brother gradually transformed into emotional abuse directed at me. My parents would openly mock my grades and belittle my hobbies.

It felt as though, no matter how much I tried, I could never meet their expectations of being the perfect child. Although I was good at sports, they barred me from participating in extracurricular activities as they wanted me to concentrate only on studies just like my brother. It was frustrating, and I felt helpless as a child.

Later, in my sophomore year, I got grounded yet again, and this time, the crime was having Snapchat on my phone. I had done absolutely nothing wrong, except like all teenagers at my age, I had downloaded this app to stay connected with my friends. However, according to my parents, this was a huge crime and a breach of their trust as they had forbidden me from communicating with my friends.

They went bat crazy on me and threw all my stuff around the room. They then took the doors off my hinges and told me that I would have no privacy as long as I lived under their roof. Watching my parents' abuse me this way, my twin brother, instead of supporting me, made my life worse.

The toxic environment created by our parents' unjust actions allowed him to exploit the situation to his advantage. He adopted a pattern of lying about me, falsely accusing me of things I never did so that he could get away with everything. If he stole something, he'd effortlessly shift the blame to me and my parents, already inclined to believe the worst about me, readily accepted his lies.

He would demean me in front of my friends at school and make fun of my appearance. Despite this, I had a wide circle of friends at school because I was approachable and open to making connections. My twin, however, struggled socially, and he started to resent that I could talk to people while he, as an introvert, felt awkward.

This jealousy reached a boiling point during our 14th birthday party when no one showed up for him on his birthday. I have no idea why his friends did that to him, but in stark contrast, my friends took me out for ice cream, and I had an overall wonderful day. This infuriated my brother further.

To take revenge, my brother began to spread false rumors at school about me, where he would portray me as a spoiled brat. He would falsely tell everyone that I was allegedly physically abusing him at home since our parents loved him more. Unbeknownst to me, he took things to a disturbing level.

To fabricate evidence, he would punch himself, purposefully inflicting injuries like a black eye or bruised shoulder. The next day, he would confidently walk into school displaying the self-inflicted injuries as proof of my supposed violence and makeup stories. Whenever our parents questioned him about the injuries, he would lie, saying that it was due to innocent activities like playing football with his friends.

The lies and his alleged black eyes started to gain traction, and people began to believe his distorted version of events. It wasn't long before whispers started circulating, and even my friends began to look at me with suspicion. At first, I noticed subtle changes; friends who once chatted with me in the hallways suddenly became distant, invitations to group hangouts became fewer and farther between.

It was like a switch had been flipped, and people were hesitant to associate with a supposedly spoiled girl accused of violence. One day, I mustered the courage to ask my ex-best friend why things had changed between us. She opened up about how my twin brother had been spreading rumors about me.

She revealed the detailed lies he had told everyone, accusing me of things I had never done. I was shocked to hear her words. The feeling was a mix of disbelief and betrayal, as if the ground beneath me had given way.

My brother, someone I grew up with, was spreading lies about me, accusing me of things I would never even dream of doing. It was a betrayal that cut deep, leaving me with a knot in my stomach and a heavy heart. I confronted my brother the day after our school, but he chose to ignore me.

I begged him to stop lying about me, but he smirked at me and told me that I deserved to rot alone. I was at a loss for words because his lies and behavior were starting to scare me. I wanted to talk to my parents, but I was afraid that they would believe my brother over me.

The isolation stung, especially because I had always Been open to making friends, it felt like my brother's jealousy-fueled lies were tearing down the connections I had built over the years. Teachers too began to catch wind of the rumors; it was a surreal experience, as if I were living in a parallel reality where my true self was overshadowed by the malicious story spun by my own twin. The lies had grown beyond mere teenage gossip; they were now shaping how people truly perceived me.

The nasty rumor quickly reached my principal's ears, and then my worst nightmare came true - the principal immediately called me and my brother into his room, as well as our parents, so we could discuss these alleged rumors. I sat there, heart pounding, as the principal demanded the truth. I hoped my brother would finally come clean, but instead he doubled down on the lies.

He straight up told the principal that yeah, the rumors were true and painted me as this bully who went around beating him up when our parents weren't around. I couldn't believe it; shock washed over me as my brother continued spinning this twisted story about how I was angry at him for getting more love from our parents. It was all a bunch of lies, but he stuck to his story like glue.

My mom began to cry hearing my brother's story, holding on to my brother like he was some kind of hero. My dad tried to comfort my brother, telling him that it was brave for him to speak up and that he would make sure that nothing would ever happen to him. After that day, I tried to defend myself, pleading with the principal that it was all made up.

I felt like I was drowning in a sea of accusations, desperately trying to swim to the surface, but my brother kept at it, insisting that I was this angry, violent person taking out my frustrations on him every day. My mom's tears kept coming as she held on to my brother, giving me accusatory looks. It was like fighting against a wall of belief in my brother's made-up story.

My principal reprimanded me strongly, saying the school didn't tolerate bullying and these were grounds to suspend me. I pleaded with him not to suspend me, but he shook his head, saying he couldn't just let it slide. I begged him, tears streaming down my face, trying to tell him that I didn't do anything to my brother.

The principal firmly told me that I would be suspended for 10 days so that others see this as an example to never bully anyone. It hit me hard, and I started crying even more, practically begging him to reconsider. My parents, angry and embarrassed by the whole situation, dragged me out of the principal's office.

I didn't want to leave; I wanted to plead my case and make them understand, but they were having none of it. We left the school, my heart heavy with frustration and humiliation. When we got home, things took a drastic turn.

My dad started packing up my stuff out of the blue. I was shocked, confused, and had no idea what was happening. My mom asked him what he was doing, but he just shouted that he couldn't let me live in the same house as my brother anymore.

I was crying, practically on my knees, and pleaded with my brother to tell them the truth, but he stayed cold, unmoved by my emotions. My dad continued packing my things and then threw the suitcase into our foyer. I clung to my dad's legs, still begging him not to throw me out.

It was like a nightmare unfolding. He told me that a bully like me didn't deserve to live in his house and that he would ask his mother, my grandmother, to come and pick me up if she wanted to do that. It felt like the world had crumbled beneath me.

I stood there in shock, surrounded by my belongings scattered in the foyer, kicked out of my own home. Eventually, my grandmother did show up. She gathered all my things and helped me place them in the car, helping me into the passenger seat.

She made sure I had my seat belt on before walking towards my parents' front door. She rang the doorbell, and when my dad opened the door, she started to yell at him for treating me this way. With stern determination, she warned him that if he ever approached me or tried to contact me again, she wouldn't hesitate to involve the police or CPS, since what he had done to a child like me could potentially wind up with him in jail.

My mother, attempting to deflect blame, told her that it was my fault; however, my grandmother wasn't having any of it. She stood her ground, defending me, emphasizing that I was just a child who didn't deserve to be treated in such a heartless manner. That was the first time in my life I felt how powerful my grandmother was.

She didn't cower down to my parents, and unlike what they believed, she trusted me. Eventually, we drove away, leaving behind my home, the only place I had ever grown up in. I can't even begin to put into words how indescribable the pain I felt during that time.

I remember just crying on the bed and not eating anything, despite how much my grandmother urged me to. I told her what my brother had done, and she was shocked as well. She assured me that she believed my side of the story, and I was happy that I at least had one person who had my back.

When the 10 days of suspension lifted, the prospect of returning to school felt like stepping back into a lion's den. As I entered the familiar hallways, the faces of my classmates spoke volumes - judgment, whispers. And sidelong glances, the weight of the false accusations continued to linger in the air.

Meanwhile, my brother blatantly ignored me and acted like I didn't exist. He had become friends with a few people who believed his side of the story and saw him as the victim of my attacks. No matter how much I tried to tell my side of the story to anyone, it fell on deaf ears.

I became an outcast, branded with an unjust label that clung to me like a shadow. No matter where I went - the classroom, the cafeteria, the corridors - the eyes that met mine were filled with disdain and mistrust. I became a loner, keeping my head down, attending all my classes, having lunch alone in the cafeteria, and going straight back home.

I had no friends, and it felt like everyone pretty much didn't want me there. Throughout all this, my parents never once called to check up on me. My grandmother would constantly remind me that this was not my fault and that life would eventually be okay.

I graduated high school with good grades and was looking forward to college, where hopefully I would have a better life. It was only when I went away to college that I first experienced what freedom felt like. For the first time, no one was watching over my shoulders, no one was comparing my grades, and no one was trying to compete with me.

I met people and formed friendships with like-minded individuals. Despite the emotional and physical scars I had sustained over the years due to my family and peers, I concentrated on putting it all behind me and enjoying this college experience as much as I could. During this time, I discovered my knack for content writing - I had always been someone who wanted to be a writer, but I wasn't sure if it would be sustainable for a long time.

Hence, I decided to ditch my dream. But to earn some side money, I decided to start writing as a freelancer. I signed up on various freelancing sites, which helped me secure jobs from prominent clients.

This is how I slowly started building a portfolio of my work. Throughout college, I maintained this side hustle and never asked for a penny from my parents. When I graduated from college, instead of getting a corporate job, I realized that I could pursue content writing as a full-time job.

I was doing quite well because of the multiple clients and the long-term professional relationships I had with them, which allowed them to rope me in multiple projects of theirs. Having a legitimate freelancing career not only made me financially independent but also allowed me to travel the world as a digital nomad. Traveling helped heal me from my past, even though it was definitely not easy.

I saved up as much as I could and took a chance on myself. Over the years, I have seen so much of the world, and yet, I have so much of it left to see. The only person who I considered my family throughout all this was my grandmother, and I absolutely adored her.

She was very sad when I moved out, but she understood that I needed to be independent on my own. Despite my hectic schedule, I would make it a point to be there for her whenever I could. I would visit her on the weekends, often sharing meals together or simply sitting on the porch engrossed in conversations that ranged from childhood tales to more recent happenings.

On weekends, I would dedicate entire afternoons to helping her with household chores or accompanying her to the local park for a leisurely walk. Recently, I got done with one of the most important projects of my career. I can't mention the brand, but I was extremely lucky to write blogs and product descriptions for them.

After the project was done, I requested the team I worked with to leave me positive reviews on my website, which they were more than happy to do. So, I took screenshots of some of their reviews to post on my Instagram as I was proud about being invited to a TV show. This is how my relatives and cousins started finding out how well I was doing in my career.

You see, because my parents never talked about me to anyone, they had no idea that I was working with popular brands and getting invited to TV shows. This is how word quickly spread within my family. I guess this TV interview must have finally reached my parents' ears, also because just a few days later, I was working on another project and had my phone on silent.

When I was done with my work, I checked my phone and to my surprise, there were six missed calls from my mom. I was honestly shocked to see her name on my phone, as it had been a long, long time since she had called me. After all those years of silence, I couldn't fathom why she was calling me.

I hesitatingly called her back, and she picked up immediately. I asked her if everything was okay, and my mom started to congratulate me. My dad, probably sitting right there with Mom, jumped into the conversation also.

He started to inquire about my life and well-being, and I answered their questions without much thought. It didn't strike me as unusual until they began to ask how much I was earning these days. I told them that it was none of their business, and my dad replied that we were family, so I shouldn't feel shy telling them my income.

I told him that I was doing well financially. Hearing this, my mom then began to say how hard their life was these days. My brows furrowed in suspicion.

Basically, here is how our conversation pretty much went - "Mom, we are retired now, and we have been. " Wanting to renovate the house for a while now. It's not in the best shape, but we have no savings left.

Me: Okay, Mom. Your success has given us hope. After watching your TV interview today, we thought maybe you could help us out by paying for the renovations.

Dad: After all, we are family. You shouldn't hesitate to share some of your earnings with us. We can really use your help.

Me: Are you joking with me? Why are you asking me for money when you haven't even talked to me for years? I don't know what made you decide to reach out to me, and while I appreciate the congratulations, I am not going to help you out in any way.

Hearing this, my mom started saying how I was being censored and that I needed to support them as a family. My dad also added that as my parents, they deserve to be looked after and that this was the least that we could do. I was so pissed at this that I wanted to give them a piece of my mind.

I suddenly got an idea that instead of just arguing with them, I should teach them a lesson for even thinking that they could mooch off me after mistreating me all those years ago. I told my parents that I was willing to help them if and only if they agreed to my demands. My dad curiously asked me what it was.

Without hesitation, I laid out my demand: if they wanted my help, they had to publicly admit in front of our family and friends that my brother was the mastermind behind the hurtful rumors that had tarnished my reputation. I wanted them to humiliate my brother the same way they had humiliated me, in front of everyone, by believing his lies and manipulation. I wanted them to take accountability for their actions and acknowledge the pain they had caused.

Hearing my impossible condition, my dad began to question the necessity of such an admission. My mom told me how this was all quite unnecessary and that we could have a private discussion without involving others, but I held my ground. This condition was non-negotiable, a prerequisite for any assistance they wanted me to offer them in the future.

As the tension escalated, my dad raised his voice, asserting his role as my father, and started to emphasize that it was my duty to help my family in need. My mom, in a last-ditch effort, urged me to do the right thing and help them, emphasizing the years they had spent raising me. I couldn't help but find irony in their sudden appeal.

I reminded them of the past, of the fact that they had kicked me out, and that it was my grandmother who had raised me, not them. They started to get more and more agitated, but I told them firmly that if they wanted to establish contact with me and seek my financial assistance from now on, then the truth needed to be acknowledged publicly, and my brother needed to face consequences for his actions. Since this conversation, my parents have been trying to incessantly call me, but I am ignoring their calls.

I am starting to regret even calling them back that day. I would like to know if I would really be in a hole if I didn't help my parents at all. Update: it's been a whirlwind of a week since I last shared my story, and the support and encouragement I have been receiving from everyone have been overwhelming.

It's heartening to know that I'm not alone during this time. I am glad that everyone agrees that I should not engage with my parents or even consider helping them out after what they put me through. The reason I even gave them such a condition was because I knew it was pretty much impossible for them to do it.

I know they love my brother too much, and despite the fact that they might have found out by now that it was all his lies, I know they will never put him through what they put me through. Today, my brother sent me a nasty text message after my parents again tried to contact me, and I refused to pick up their calls. This is what he wrote: "Hey sis, it's been a long time since I saw you, and I can tell you that every day without you in my life has been great.

I heard that Mom and Dad reached out to you, and you gave them a crazy ultimatum. They are never going to go through with it, you know that, right? They clearly never loved you, and they will never do anything to hurt me.

I admit that I did lie about you 15 years ago, but it's been a long time since then, so stop being so selfish and try to move on from the past. You are unmarried and childless anyway, so why do you not want to help them out by paying for their repairs and renovations around the house? Do the right thing and be a better daughter.

" Seeing the message felt like a stab to my chest. The audacity to dismiss the struggles I had faced and the conditions I had set spoke volumes about his lack of empathy. The attempt to guilt trip me by emphasizing my unmarried and childless status added another layer of insensitivity.

His insinuation that I should prioritize their needs over my own well-being was not only offensive but also highlighted how little he thought of me. Fueled by frustration and a strong desire for justice, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands and reveal the truth that had been hidden for too long. I sat down to write an email to my parents and close relatives, sharing the painful details of.

. . My childhood and the unfair treatment I had endured while growing up at my family house.

In the email, I described the strict and oppressive environment I had under my parents' roof and how they treated me compared to my twin brother. The email also delved into the malicious and completely untrue rumor my brother had spread about me in school, which had led to severe consequences and affected my reputation. I wrote how my parents had kicked me out to the curb and had it not been for my grandmother, I might have been dead in the streets by now.

Towards the end, I asked everyone to read a message my brother had sent me. I attached a screenshot where he admitted to lying about me. It was a clear confession that I hoped would expose the lies that had persisted for too long.

I sent the email just an hour ago and I know that all hell will break loose once my parents and my brother read it. I will update you next regarding how my family reacts to my email. Update two: It's been a month since my last update and a lot of things have happened.

This month, as you can imagine, my family did erupt after receiving the email. My parents have received criticism from relatives who were previously unaware of the extent of the favoritism and emotional abuse. A lot of the family members reached out to me, telling me that they had no idea about all this and apologized to me for not being there for me.

My brother and my parents sent me a barrage of text messages that were starting to get more abusive and violent, so I decided to reach out to a lawyer who sent them a notice of cease and desist. It basically warned them to not contact me further and if they did, they would have to face dire legal consequences. I guess this must have scared them straight because they stopped contacting me.

My grandmother thinks I have done the right thing by letting everyone know what happened and supports me 100%. She is the only person who matters to me so I'm glad she has my back. Update three: It's been 2 months since my last update.

I am happy to report that everything in my life is going well for now. Professionally, my content writing business has been flourishing. The invitations to speak at seminars and podcasts continue to roll in, solidifying my position as a respected figure in my line of work.

I am as close to my grandmother as ever. I took a one break from my work recently so I could spend some quality time with her. She is into gardening these days and educated me a lot about various flowers and herbs in her garden.

The moments I spent with her, whether sharing meals, engaging in heartfelt conversations, or simply enjoying each other's company, are my favorite and cherished memories. My family has not contacted me after the letter they received from my lawyer so I'm happy that they are staying away from me. Personally, I have started going to therapy so hopefully I can work on healing myself.

I think this will be the last update for now.