Chapter 8

Erica laid on the bed, her mind calculative. Bringing her grandfather into this wasn't her original plan but she needed something to stall the plot against them for a little while. 

Erica's mom had passed away a few years before her 18th birthday and she had left a will leaving all her assets to Erica. 

She had to get it back. 

She had been going and left it in the hands of her stepmother on her 18th birthday, now there was a need for it. 

She had to revisit a place she vowed not to go in this new life of hers. She got dressed and headed to the family mansion. 

Erica stood outside the iron gates of her family home, the grand estate, with its manicured gardens and imposing balconies, had never felt like home to her after her mother's death.

It was a house full of ghosts—memories of a life that had been stripped away from her piece by piece, leaving her an outsider in the very place she was meant to belong.

She took a deep breath, pushing the intercom button and waiting for the inevitable icy reception. Moments later, a crackling voice came through the speaker. 

“Yes?” It was Lydia, the family’s long-serving housekeeper. She had always been more loyal to Erica’s stepmother, Vivian, than to her.

“It’s Erica,” she said, her voice steady despite the tension in her chest.

There was a pause,showing Lydia's surprise at her presence. Finally, the gates began to open with a slow, reluctant creak. Erica stepped in, her heels clicking against the driveway as she approached the front door.

The door swung open before she could knock, revealing her younger sister, Ophelia. With her perfectly styled black hair and designer dress, Ophelia looked every bit the part of the pampered heiress. But the sneer on her face was unmistakable.

“Well, well,” Ophelia drawled, leaning against the doorframe. “Look who finally decided to show her face. The deserter is back.”

“Good morning to you too,” Erica replied, keeping her tone neutral. “I need to talk to Vivian.”

Ophelia’s eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on her lips. “Of course you do.”

Erica smiled, her mother’s inheritance,a sharp reminder of why she was here. Since her mother’s passing, the inheritance had been a constant source of tension—one that Vivian and Ophelia had exploited at every turn. “Where is she?.”

“Why should I tell you?,” Ophelia shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Ophelia, enough,” a cold voice called from inside the house. Vivian appeared behind Ophelia, her presence commanding. She was impeccably dressed, as always, her eyes sharp and calculating as she looked Erica up and down. “Erica, I didn’t expect to see you today. What brings you here?”

Erica swallowed her pride, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with her stepmother. “I need to talk to you about my mother’s inheritance. There are some things we need to clear up.”

Vivian’s eyes gleamed with a predatory light, as if she had been waiting for this moment. “Of course,” she said smoothly, turning on her heel and gesturing for Erica to follow. “Let's go to the study.”

Erica followed her stepmother down the hallway, feeling Ophelia’s smug gaze on her back as she passed. The study was just as she remembered it—dark wood paneling, heavy drapes, and a large mahogany desk that dominated the room. It had been her father’s domain once, but after his death, Vivian had claimed it as her own.

Vivian took a seat behind the desk, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “So, what’s this about?” she asked, her tone deceptively polite.

Erica hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I’ve been going over the terms of the inheritance,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “There are some assets that were supposed to be put in a trust for me, but they seem to have been… overlooked.”

Vivian raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Overlooked? I don’t recall anything being overlooked. Everything was handled according to your mother’s wishes.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Erica replied, her voice firm. “There have been missing properties that were clearly stated in the will, and yet, those assets have mysteriously disappeared.”

Vivian’s expression hardened, the pretense of civility slipping away. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Erica. Your mother was… unwell toward the end. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind to make such decisions.”

Erica’s temper flared, but she kept it in check. “I dare you to say that one more time”

Vivian’s lips curled into a thin smile, her eyes narrowing. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Erica. You have no power here, no influence. If you push this, you’ll only end up with less than you have now.”

Erica leaned forward, her voice low and determined. “I’m not here to play games, Vivian. I’m here to claim what’s rightfully mine.”

Vivian stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she stood, her movements graceful and deliberate. “Very well,” she said coolly. “If you’re so determined, I’ll have my lawyer review the documents. But don’t expect any miracles, Erica. This house belongs to Ophelia and me now. You’re a guest—nothing more.”

Erica stood as well, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and resolve. “I’ll be waiting for that review,” she said, turning on her heel and leaving the study without another word.

As she walked down the hallway, she passed Ophelia again, who was lounging on a velvet settee, a smug smile on her lips. “Good luck, big sister,” Ophelia called after her, her voice laced with mockery. “You’ll need it.”

Erica ignored her, heading straight for the door. She could feel the weight of the house pressing down on her, the coldness of it seeping into her bones. But as she stepped outside, the sunlight hitting her face, she felt a spark of defiance reignite within her.

She might not have the power or influence that Vivian and Ophelia wielded, but she had something far more important—her mother’s love and the strength that came with it. And she wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from her.