Megan crossed her arms. “You’re being selfish. Honestly, holding onto all this space when others could actually use it—”
She stopped, then let the thought land fully.
“It’s wasteful.”
The word hung in the air.
Eleanor felt something settle completely inside her.
“Get out,” she said.
This time, the room obeyed.
People began leaving quickly, collecting belongings, avoiding eye contact. Within minutes, the house emptied itself until only Megan remained.
“You’re making a mistake,” Megan said, though her certainty had begun to fracture.
Eleanor walked to the small desk near the hallway and opened a drawer. She took out a folder.
“I was going to give this to Robert next week,” she said. “But this timing works just as well.”
She pulled out a single page.
“A letter from my attorney. Regarding the trust for this property.”
Megan frowned. “What trust?”
“The one that determines who inherits this house.”
A pause.
Then Eleanor continued.
