The New England autumn had stripped the cemetery bare, leaving behind a solemn, skeletal beauty.
The wind cut through the oaks, scattering crisp leaves across the gray grass. It was a day for endings – a day for remembering. The first anniversary of her mother’s passing.
Anna stood before the smooth granite slab that bore the name Elizabeth Ann Miller.
She laid a handful of sunflowers at its base – her mother’s favorite – bright splashes of yellow against the dull landscape. The grief still lived in her chest like a permanent scar, but today it was attended by something darker: dread.
Because she knew he would come.
Her brother, Gavin, would never miss a chance to turn mourning into warfare.
The last time they’d spoken was six months earlier, in their mother’s lawyer’s office. The scent of old books and varnish had filled the room as Mr.
Abernathy read the will aloud.
Anna had inherited nearly everything: the family home and most of their mother’s estate. Gavin, meanwhile, was granted a modest trust fund – conditional on keeping a steady job and staying out of trouble. Any act of aggression toward Anna would void it instantly.
It wasn’t favoritism; it was foresight.
Their mother had known her son’s temper too well.
Gavin’s face had gone crimson.
“She left you everything?” he spat.
“The house, the money—after all I did for her?”
Anna remembered the way his finger jabbed toward her like a weapon. “You think you’ve won? I’ll burn it all down before I let you have it.
I swear, Anna, you’ll regret this.”
That threat had hung in the air ever since.
And now, standing in the cold cemetery, Anna felt it materializing in the crunch of tires on gravel somewhere down the road.
But she was ready.
Before leaving home that morning, she had sent a message to a group chat she’d created, titled simply “The Bridge Club.” Her mother’s lifelong friends – women who had played cards together for forty years, who had laughed, cried, and grown old side by side.
…The story doesn’t end here, it continues on the next page 👇
