he said, pointing at me.
“You think you’re so special, don’t you?”
“Go home, Marcus.”
“This should have been mine.”
He shoved past me into the foyer.
“Samuel was my great-uncle too. I’m the oldest male in the family. This house, this money, it should have gone to me.”
“He didn’t want you to have it.”
He spun around, his face twisted with rage.
“You poisoned him against us. You manipulated him.”
“I barely knew him.”
“Liar.”
He grabbed a vase from the side table and hurled it against the wall. It shattered, pieces scattering across the marble floor.
“You’re just like your mother. Always playing the victim. Always taking what doesn’t belong to you.”
My heart was pounding. I backed toward the door, calculating how fast I could run, whether I could reach my phone.
“Get out.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“This is my house.”
“It’s not.”
“And if you don’t leave, I’m calling the police.”
He laughed.
“Go ahead. Call them. Tell them your family came to visit. They’ll love that story.”
He took a step toward me. That was when I saw it. The drawer in the console table near the door was slightly open, and inside, barely visible, was the grip of a gun. Samuel’s gun. Clara had mentioned it during the inventory. Old, probably not even loaded, but Marcus didn’t know that. I moved quickly, pulling the drawer open and grabbing the weapon. It was heavier than I expected, cold and solid in my hand. Marcus froze.
“Get out,”
I said again.
He stared at the gun, then at me. Then he started laughing.
“You don’t have the guts.”
My finger rested near the trigger. My hands were not shaking anymore.
“Try me.”
For a moment, we just stood there. The air between us felt electric, dangerous. Then Marcus turned and walked out. I slammed the door behind him, locked it, and sank to the floor, the gun still in my hand. I sat there for an hour before I could move again.
Clara came the next morning. I called her after Marcus left and told her everything. She arrived with coffee and a folder full of documents.
“We need to talk.”
We sat in the library. I was exhausted, my nerves frayed, my hands still trembling slightly.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you,”
Clara began.
“About the conditions of the will.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“The six months in the mansion—that’s not just about you living here. It’s about testing you. Samuel wanted to see if you could withstand your family, if you could resist their manipulation, their greed, their attempts to take what’s yours.”
“Why?”
Clara hesitated.
“Because Samuel knew what they were. He knew they’d come for you, and he wanted to make sure you were strong enough to fight back.”
“What happens if I fail?”
“If you give in, if you sign away any part of the estate, if you leave the mansion before the six months are up, if you let them manipulate you into changing the terms, the entire inheritance goes to charity.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
I stared at her.
“Does my family know this?”
“They do now. I was legally required to inform them yesterday.”
“So they’re going to come after me even harder.”
“Yes.”
I felt sick.
