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“You think I’m an evil old bitch, don’t you?”

“Oh grandmother,” Helen said. “Of course I don’t.”

“Liar. Everyone in this family thinks so. I am what I had to be, to hold this family and its fortune together for nearly seventy years since old Cyrus dumped it on me. Now the buzzards are gathering, sensing the end of my time. The distant relations are circling and everyone, everyone is eager for their piece.”

“Not everyone, grandmother. I was happy at school, enjoying a taste of freedom.”

“Of course you were. Beyond a certain point wealth becomes a lifetime shackle. You see that I can’t leave it to the grasping buzzards, don’t you?”

Helen paled. “What do you mean?”

“My lawyers have been working hard on the final revision; my will is ironclad, no one can break it. Everything, every penny, every piece of property, they’re all your problem now.”

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150 words. Inspired by this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt:

Photo provided by pixabay.com (free to use photos)

Unfortunately, it’s not speculative fiction. Pretty much undiluted melodrama. Oh well, maybe Heathcliffe will come through and save the day.