my estranged brother showed up at our mum's funeral demanding inheritance

We've been estranged for five years. That's how long it's been since Marcus last spoke to our mother. He didn't call on her birthday, didn't visit when she was in hospital last year, didn't even send a card when she was diagnosed. But he showed up today, at her funeral reception, stepping out of a taxi like he owned the place.

I (34M) was standing by the front gate, greeting the last of the mourners, when I saw him. He walked straight up to me, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I want what's mine."

The extended family and friends around us fell silent. I felt the weight of their eyes, the awkward shuffling of feet. I kept my voice flat. "You need to leave, Marcus. I'll call the police if I have to."

He didn't flinch. Instead, he pulled out his phone and hit play. Our mother's voice came through the speaker, recorded two years ago: "I'll always make sure you're looked after, Marcus. You'll always be my son."

The crowd murmured. Some of my aunties started nodding, whispering to each other. I saw the shift – the doubt creeping in. For a moment, I thought I might lose them.

Then Priya (32F) stepped forward. She was Mum's closest friend, and mine too. She cleared her throat and said, "I was with your mother when she recorded that message. She was talking about love, not money. She said the same thing to Liam's dog."

A few people laughed, but Priya wasn't done. She held up her phone and showed Marcus a screenshot of a text he'd sent our mother a year ago. It read: "Don't contact me again. You're dead to me."

The group chat with extended family blew up. Screenshots of Marcus's old messages – cruel, dismissive, full of venom – started circulating. The murmuring shifted again.

Marcus's face went red. He jabbed a finger at me. "You manipulated her while she was sick. You isolated her from the family. I have a witness – your aunt – who'll testify to that."

I felt the cold rage settle deeper in my chest. I kept my voice level. "If you want to go to court, we'll go to court. I have medical records proving Mum was of sound mind when she made the will. And your 'witness' – our aunt – already signed a statement supporting me."

Marcus stared at me. The silence stretched. Then he turned, walked back to the taxi, and drove away.

The funeral continued. The sandwiches were eaten, the eulogies were given. But the family is fractured now. Some relatives are still on Marcus's side, saying I should give him something to avoid the drama. Others are telling me I did the right thing.

Am I overreacting for refusing to give him a cent?