She stood on the half-finished porch and looked out at the sea. This? This was what her uncle had left her?

Despite her anger at her Grandfather, she’d rather be back in his opulent office, defiantly pointing her finger at him, accusing him of blackmail. She was doing him a favor by inheriting this place. Quaint, he’d said with a smile. She’d had no choice. Her apartment mysteriously burst into flames after she’d refused to take the promotion. Now with nothing to lose, he’d given her half a shelter.

Why did he still need her around? Why didn’t he kill her like she was sure he’d done to her uncle, his own wayward son?

She went inside to run a finger over the dusty, unfinished counter. There had to be a clue here. A knock sounded at the open door.

“Hello, neighbor!” called a male voice.
“Are you family of the uh..”
“Tragic. So sorry for your loss.” He had green eyes.
“Are you planning on fixing her up? I know a great contractor.”
“Thanks. Um,” she looked around. “I think I am.”

View this story's 7 comments.