Chapter 2
The dial tone buzzed harshly against Eleanor’s ear, each rhythmic pulse fueling the cold fire in her veins. She stood beside the driver-side door of her car, her posture rigid, refusing to let the muffled thumping of bass-heavy music from inside the house break her composure. Thomas needed to answer right now, before her patience dissolved entirely.
“Did you tell her she could use my house whenever she wanted?” Eleanor demanded the instant the line connected, her voice dropping into a register so steely and authoritative that it immediately cut through the background noise of Thomas's muffled excuses.
On the other end, Thomas stammered, his words slurring slightly from afternoon drinking. “Aunt Eleanor? Look, it’s complicated. We just had a few friends over—it’s no big deal, right? Can’t you just go stay at a hotel for the weekend?”
Eleanor’s expression tightened into a hard, unyielding line. “A hotel? In my own town, on my own property, while strangers trash my living room and insult me at my own front door? You gave them my keys, Thomas. You traded my sanctuary for a weekend of cheap popularity.”
“Come on, don’t be like that,” Thomas pleaded, his tone shifting from defensive to whiny. “Brenda didn’t know who you were! She thought you were just some pushy neighbor. Just give us till Sunday, and we’ll clean up, I swear.”
“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Eleanor asked, her voice dangerously quiet, the question hanging in the air like a looming storm cloud. She didn't wait for his stuttered reply. She ended the call with a sharp tap of her thumb against the glass screen, cutting him off mid-sentence.
May you like
She stared at the phone for a long moment, watching the home screen illuminate her reflection. The shock was entirely gone now, replaced by a profound, chilling clarity. For years, she had quietly tolerated Thomas’s entitlement, making excuses for his laziness, assuming family loyalty meant enduring disrespect. She had handed him opportunities on a silver platter, believing kindness would eventually cultivate character. Instead, it had bred monsters who felt comfortable turning her out onto her own lawn.
Eleanor turned her gaze back toward the beach house. Through the living room window, she spotted Brenda raising a toast with a group of laughing twenty-somethings, completely oblivious to the fact that the rightful owner of the estate was standing just yards away, plotting her next move. Eleanor slipped the phone back into her leather bag, straightened her collar, and opened her car door. She wasn't going to drive away defeated. She was going to make a few phone calls that would forever alter the financial and legal landscape of her family's future.
