BREAKING FREE

The corridor walls feel like they’re closing in.

Ever since Dad died, since Uncle Jeff took over, this house stopped being home. I’m a ghost in it. A servant. His rules, his moods, his words when I step out of line.

I’m so lost in the memory of it that I don’t see him until I slam straight into his chest.

I stumble back. Look up.

Uncle Jeff. The devil who took everything from me.

Uncle Jeff: Sweet niece, earth to where?

Gold: Sorry, Uncle. I was preoccupied by my thoughts.

I keep my eyes on my shoes. Looking at him too long feels dangerous.

Uncle Jeff: No, you are not occupied. You’re just weak. Always begging for attention. You should be grateful I even bother with you.

The words slip out before I can stop them. “Your words don’t hurt me anymore.” His smirk dies. The room goes cold.

Uncle Jeff stops inches away. I can smell his cologne. It used to be Dad’s brand.

Uncle Jeff: Gold, Gold, Gold. claps, slow and mocking. Did you get reincarnated while I wasn’t looking? Where’s this sharp tongue from?

Gold: This isn’t about you. It’s about me. My freedom. My respect. Those are worth more than being afraid of you.

I don’t wait for his answer. I walk, almost run, back to my room. My hands are shaking.

I pull Dad’s framed picture from my drawer. His smile is the same as I remember. For a second, I don’t feel so alone. "Gold, you’re braver than you know,” he told me at my 16th birthday. I hold onto that.

Hours later, the house is quiet. I go to the kitchen. All the staff Dad hired are gone. Jeff fired them the week after the funeral. Now I’m the maid in my own house.

Later, I head downstairs. The TV is on. Jeff’s already there, taking up the whole couch like he owns it.

I turn to leave. His voice stops me.

Uncle Jeff: Sit down. My family’s moving in next week.

The floor drops out from under me.

Gold: No. This is my house. My parents’. You can’t just do that.

Uncle Jeff: I already did. I control everything your parents left. Including you.

He stands. Walks out. Doesn’t look back.

I stand there in the ruins of what used to be my life. For the first time, the fear isn’t the loudest thing in my chest. It’s anger. Cold, sharp, and mine.

I need to sleep, or I’ll break.

I barely slept. The next morning I wake up feeling exhausted. My sheets are twisted. My eyes burn.

But I haul myself up and shuffle towards the shower, hoping the warm water can wash away some of the pain.

As I’m done dressing and head downstairs, I’m confronted by my uncle’s family.

I have no choice but to exchange brief hellos before making a beeline for the kitchen.

But my uncle’s wife’s soft voice whispers my name and motions me to join them.

Uncle Jeff’s glare pins me in place. A silent warning to refuse his wife’s request.

Noticing my shiver, his wife’s face fills with empathy. Her voice is warm, soothing.

Aunty Hannah: What’s wrong, dear one?

Her hand gently touches my cheek. I feel a surge of calm when she holds my hand.

Uncle Jeff: Hey! Hannah, let her be. She has been through a lot because of her parents’ death.

Aunty Hannah: Oh honey, your parents left you all alone, but don’t worry. I will take care of you, my dear.

Uncle Jeff: Gold! Go to the kitchen. Hannah gets confused sometimes. Later she won’t even remember this conversation.

I don’t respond. I turn toward the kitchen, but a hand stops me. To my surprise, it’s Aunty Hannah again.

Aunty Hannah: My daughter, don’t leave me.

I’m confused, but I can see she means no harm. Her children came and gently guide her to her room.

My uncle turns to me, his voice low.

Uncle Jeff: Gold, as you can see, my family are here. So comply with everything I say or I will make your life very difficult.

I meet his eyes for one second. “I heard you.” His jaw tightens. He didn’t expect even that much.

Uncle Jeff: Good girl. Remember, your well-being depends on your behavior.

I bury my face in my hands and rush outside to the garden. My mind flashes back to my father’s final moments in the hospital.

I remember the weak but determined grip of his hand, the faint smile on his lips, and the whispered words that became my mantra.

Dad: Be brave, Gold. Don’t let anything break you.

Tears prickle my eyes. With renewed resolve, I square my shoulders. Then my phone buzzes.

Patience: Babes, we have a problem. There’s a matcha shortage. Restaurant is gonna be hit hard.

The problem isn’t just the restaurant. Legacy Holdings supplies that matcha. If we’re short, the whole country will feel it.

But my uncle took my car. I feel so trapped.

I run back inside, ready to confront him, but he’s gone. I dress quickly and head to Legacy Holdings.

I take a taxi. The lobby falls silent when I walk in. “Ms. Gold ?” The board members stand. For the first time since Dad died, I feel like the heiress.

As I enter, I’m greeted with empathy for the loss of my father.

I walk to Dad’s office — my office now and sit feeling frustrated. I call Legacyline.

Gold: Lovia, schedule a conference meeting with the entire team. Now. We need to discuss the matcha shortage.

Lovia nods and quickly gets to work. Within minutes, the conference room is filled.

I stand at the head of the table, ready to take back control.

Gold: Alright, let’s get started. You all know about the shortage of our matcha product. We need to brainstorm ideas to address it immediately. I want to hear every suggestion, no matter how small it may seem.

I sit and listen as the team discusses, building on each other’s suggestions.

“We hold a press conference. We face the public. We show them Legacy Holdings takes responsibility.” The room goes quiet. Then the head of PR nods. “Bold. I like it.”

By the time the meeting adjourns, we have a plan. Lovia and I go to my office.

Gold: Lovia, invite local media, industry experts, key customers, partners, and company executives to the press conference tomorrow night. Everyone who needs to know about the matcha update.

She nods and leaves. I feel annoyed with myself for letting Uncle Jeff get in my head.

Seeking a break, I head to my restaurant. Patience is working the shift.

As soon as I walk in, she gives me a big hug. The staff all smile and say hello.

Gold: Patience, I really need to talk to you.

We head to my office. I collapse into the chair, exhausted.

Patience: Hey Ann , what’s going on? You seem empty.

Gold: I’m just really stressed about the business. The shortage is going to hurt us badly.

Patience: I know it’s hard, but we’ll figure it out. We always do. But is there something else going on? You seem timid and shaken.

Gold: No, no, it’s just the matcha. I’m really worried.

Patience: Okay... well, we’ll get through this. Legacy Holdings has supplied matcha for decades. There’s no replacing them. We just need to negotiate with the partners.

Gold: Yes. We are holding a press conference tomorrow night to explain how we’ll resolve it and apologize. This is a great loss to all of us.

Patience: Good. But Antoinette, I know you are hiding something. But I don’t want to push you about it.

Gold: Thank you, babes.

I lean back in my chair . Finally, quiet.

The office door bangs open.

Both of us turn.

Gold sees his uncle’s furious face first.

“I told you not to go near Legacy Holdings,” Uncle Jeff snaps, storming in. “I am the head now, Gold. Not you. Me.”

He slams his hands on my desk. The photo of me and Dad rattles.

“Legacy Holdings isn’t yours,” I say, my voice sharp. “Dad never...”

Patience starts to stand. “Mr. Cole, I ...”

Uncle Jeff doesn’t look at her. “Out. Now.”

Patience glances at me. I nod. She leaves, shutting the door behind her.

Uncle Jeff turns the lock. Click.

He’s across the desk in a second. His hand closes around my throat, shoving me back into the chair.

His smile is cold. “Know your place, Gold.” He squeezes. “Your father’s dead. There’s no one to protect you now.”

I claw at his wrist. He doesn’t let go.

“Tell me, little devil,” he whispers, leaning in close. “Who gave you permission to leave the house in the first place?”

END CHAPTER 1

Worst .Uncle. Ever .if this made you mad 😠 smash that ⭐️