Four and a half years ago, my brother met a young woman. She was soft spoken, sweet, and looked angelic. At the time, she was 21 and my brother was 26. She came from a respectable family, her parents had been married until her father passed away. My father and stepmother adored her, convinced she was a perfect angel. But I caught a red flag when she told me she liked my brother because he had “so much potential.”
My brother and the rest of my family are unaware of the online groups or philosophies I follow, so I kept my thoughts to myself. But I couldn’t ignore the word “potential.” Potential for what? I knew she probably meant “money making potential,” but at first, I let it slide.
I thought about it more. Potential to be a top mechanic? A clothing designer? Her statement felt incomplete. Not grammatically, but in meaning. Did she not see potential in herself? Don’t we all have potential to achieve what we work for? Yet, she only focused on what my brother could offer her.
Soon after they started dating, my brother helped her get a job in the city. As second in command to the mayor, he secured her a great salary. That job opened doors, and she eventually moved to a prestigious accounting firm, earning $130,000 a year, more than my brother made.
During that time, they lived rent free in my father’s basement, saving money. My brother invested in distressed properties, renovated them, and built a portfolio of three investment properties with six rental units, generating steady income. They moved into a luxury apartment in the city, with a 24 hour gym, pool, sauna, jacuzzi, steam room, and sundeck. They looked like they were living the dream.
Then, on my brother’s birthday, she packed her things and left. She moved back to her mother’s house in another state, quitting her job without notice. She quickly shifted her dependency from my brother to her mother. She also announced she would claim full ownership of their joint properties.
She kept texting my brother, but when he forwarded her messages to her mother, she blocked his number. Even her mother was shocked by her behavior. Eventually, she sent him a message saying she wanted no contact for two weeks because their relationship lacked “consistency.” That vague excuse frustrated my brother. She also told him he could have affairs but forbade him from moving another woman into their apartment. It was obvious she was keeping him as a backup in case her new relationship failed.
When my brother went to my father’s house to talk, my father, 81 and still sharp, told him he should have been nicer to her. He still saw her as an angel and even pointed out that she made more money than my brother.
I couldn’t hold back. I reminded my father that my brother had launched her career, helped her prepare for interviews, and built three investment properties bringing in consistent income. I said she should be grateful to him.
When my brother arrived, he shared her latest demands and her vague complaints about “inconsistency.” I asked him, “What consistency did you promise her that you didn’t deliver? What consistency did she expect that you failed to provide? What consistency is she giving you while demanding two weeks of silence? Life doesn’t guarantee consistency, so why should you give her more than life itself?”
I spent a week with him at his place, mostly listening. We didn’t talk much, just spent nights on his rooftop deck, drinking expensive wine and champagne she had bought for special occasions. He begged me for my honest opinion. I told him, as his brother, I couldn’t be entirely neutral, but the facts were clear. She was acting like a spoiled child who didn’t know what she wanted but expected him to provide it anyway.
I gave him a plan. Try to get her back, but work on removing her name from their shared properties. If she returned, she needed to take a pregnancy test. If she refused, buy out her share and sue her for half the rent and utilities she owed.
By the end of the week, my brother took a break from everything. He took time off work and traveled to Colombia, where he is half Colombian. On his first day there, he met a woman near his aunt’s house. She paid for their meals, drinks, and drove him around in her car. My brother was stunned by her generosity. She didn’t want to move to the United States and was happy with her career, but she was glad to be his girlfriend while he was there.
When he returned from Colombia, his ex hit him with a lawsuit, demanding full ownership of all three properties. But when the case went to court, the judge ruled in my brother’s favor. He was ordered to pay her only $2,500.
Later, her lawyer told my brother he had advised her to settle for $10,000, but she had insisted on trying to take it all. After paying her legal fees, she ended up with nothing.
