My Parents Gave My Sister A Luxury Villa And Gifted Me An Abandoned Parking Lot. Now I Own Their Foreclosed Home. Am I The Jerk For Making Them Pay Rent?

The Division of Assets

My parents gave my sister a luxury villa and left me an empty parking lot. “You can always sleep under the stars,” they snickered. But when I turned it into a business, they wanted to share.

I should have known this dinner was a setup. My parents never invited me over unless they had a reason—usually to remind me how much of a disappointment I was. But I went anyway because, deep down, I still had that stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

I work as a mechanic. Nothing fancy, but I’m good at it. I fix things, I get paid, I mind my own business. Meanwhile, my sister Emily, she’s their perfect little angel. Never worked a real job in her life, always had everything handed to her. She could burn their house down and they’d still find a way to blame me for it.

So I walk in and Emily’s already there, sipping wine like she owns the place. Dad’s at the table flipping through the newspaper. Mom’s in the kitchen pretending to be busy so she doesn’t have to look at me too much.

“Wow,” Emily smirks. “You actually showed up. What, took the night off from changing tires?”

I ignore her and sit down. Mom said it was important. Dad finally folds his newspaper.

“It is. We’ve decided to divide our assets.”

Emily lights up instantly. She already knows she’s getting something big. Mom smiles at her.

“We’re giving you the beach house, sweetheart.”

Emily gasps, clutching her chest like she’s won an Oscar.

“Oh my God! The one in Ma…?”

Mom nods.

“Yes, honey. It’s yours now.”

The Parking Lot

I sit there waiting. There’s got to be something for me too, right? Dad turns to me, expression flat.

“And you, Logan. We’re giving you the parking lot.”

Silence. I blink.

“The what?”

“The old lot on 8th Street,” Mom says, waving a hand like she’s doing me a favor. “It’s land. You can figure something out.”

Emily bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God, that is hilarious.”

She turns to me with a smirk.

“Well, at least you’ll always have a place to sleep. Under the stars.”

Dad chuckles.

“That lot’s been empty for years. But hey, maybe you can open a lemonade stand or something.”

Mom sighs.

“Logan, you always say you want to build something for yourself. Now’s your chance.”

I stare at them. This wasn’t even an insult disguised as kindness; this was straight-up garbage. A memory flashes in my head: me at 16, coming home covered in grease from my first job at the auto shop. I’d been so proud. I walked in holding my first paycheck, decided to show them I was working hard.

Emily was on the couch whining about wanting a new car for her birthday. Dad didn’t even look at me.

“You’re going to smell like oil for the rest of your life, huh?”

Mom shook her head.

“Well, at least he’s useful. Maybe one day he’ll fix your car for free, Emily.”

She never had to. They bought her a brand new BMW that same week. And now here we were, years later, and nothing had changed. I take a slow breath and push back from the table.

“You’re serious?”

Dad shrugs.

“You should be grateful we’re giving you anything.”

Emily snickers.

“Maybe one day you’ll make enough money to buy a real property.”

They start laughing like this is the funniest thing in the world. I grip the edge of the chair so hard my knuckles turn white. But I don’t yell. I don’t argue. I just nod.

“Okay.”

Mom frowns.

“That’s it? No thank you?”

I stand up.

“Oh, I’ll make something of it.”

I look at Emily, and when I do…

“Don’t come knocking.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Sure, Logan. Can’t wait to see what you do with a slab of concrete.”

Dad shakes his head, muttering.

“Always so dramatic.”

Building an Empire

I walk out without another word. Fine. They thought they could humiliate me. I’d turn that worthless parking lot into something they’d never see coming. And when I did, they’d regret every word.

I stood in front of that parking lot, staring at it like it was some kind of sick joke. Cracked pavement, weeds growing through the asphalt, a rusted old sign that barely clung to its post. My parents didn’t just screw me over; they laughed while doing it. Fine. They wanted me to fail, I’d make sure they choked on their own words.

The next morning, I filed for permits to allow food trucks. If this was nothing but a slab of concrete, then I’d make sure it was a profitable slab of concrete. Within a week, I had contracts with some of the best local food truck owners. Tacos, burgers, coffee, even some overpriced vegan bowls for the hipsters.

I took out a small loan—not from a bank, but from my boss at the auto shop, a guy who actually believed in hard work. I used it to set up lights, seating, music, and banners to turn the place into something real.

Three weeks later, that useless parking lot was now a full-blown food court with live music and lines around the block. And that’s when the fun started.

The Confrontation

About a month in, after the place had gone viral on social media, I saw her. Mom. She showed up in her expensive coat, looking around like she had just walked into a garbage dump. I was checking inventory when she approached.

“So this is what you’ve done,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the crowd enjoying their meals.

I didn’t even bother looking at her.

“Yeah, well, you gave me trash so I made it work.”

She exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed.

“This isn’t a real business,” she said. “It’s just a phase, right?”

I laughed.

“A phase that’s making more money than Emily’s influencer career.”

Her face twitched. And as if on cue, Emily rounded the corner. She stopped dead in her tracks, her usual smug look vanishing as she took in the place.

“What on earth?” she snapped. “You turned this into some kind of… what is this? A flea market?”

I grinned.

“It’s called a successful business.”

She scoffed.

“This is a joke. This isn’t real money.”

I gestured around.

“Yeah? Then why are hundreds of people spending their fake money here every night?”

A few customers actually clapped. Emily’s face turned red.

“Mom, say something,” she whined.

Mom cleared her throat.

“Logan, we’re just concerned. This doesn’t seem stable.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Stable? Like the fully furnished beach house you handed Emily for free?”

Emily cut in quickly.

“You can’t sell this. This is family property.”

I let out a short laugh.

“Oh, now it’s family property? That’s funny. When you were all laughing at me, I don’t remember hearing ‘family’ in the conversation.”

Her jaw clenched.

“This isn’t fair,” she snapped. “You didn’t earn this.”

I slowly turned to face her.

“You’re seriously saying that to me?”

She crossed her arms, but her confidence wavered.

“I’m just saying, selling it would be betraying the family.”

I tilted my head.

“When you dumped it on me as a joke, that wasn’t betrayal?”

Mom looked like she was searching for something to say. Then she finally found it.

“Well,” she said carefully. “If this business is doing so well, maybe we should discuss a partnership.”

I stared at her. Then I laughed loud. So loud a few customers turned to see what was happening.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked. “You ignored me, humiliated me, gave me nothing, and now that I made something out of it, you want a piece?”

Emily crossed her arms.

“It’s family money now.”

I took a step forward and looked her dead in the eye.

“You already got your share,” I said coldly. “Live with it.”

And then, without another word, I turned my back on them and walked straight into my business, leaving them standing there like statues. They thought they could break me, but I was just getting started.