What do you wait for? They dance around you, pick me, pick me, they call out.

But you wouldn't dare, you just couldn't...

But, you did.

Once they are picked, they fall limp in your hand, dead.

As everything you touch.

—𝘌𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘴

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Ambrosia's grandmother was a wealthy woman, she put many years of hard work to gain the life of luxury she died in.

Ambrosia knew that very well enough to come.

A cup of hot tea was set gently in front of Ambrosia. Ivy sat beside her sipping quietly and staring down at the table. Their father cleaned his glasses with a small kerchief and sighed.

"The funeral is in two weeks, so we must go to the house by the end of this week," her father said.

Ambrosia was barely paying attention, for her interest was looking around the apartment and trying to spot out all the old things that were still there since she was a little girl. She caught sight of a grandfather clock in the corner. She remembered that it used to make the most irritable chime every hour.

But now it stood idle in the corner, dust covering the oak wood. Ambrosia glanced around at the picture frames of her and her sister, and the frame of her mother and grandmother.

She turned back to look at her father who was staring intently at her.

"It's been a while..." she muttered tracing her finger on the rim of the cup.

"Yes, it has been." her father replied.

Ambrosia turned to look at her sister, they were a good six years apart, her being twenty five years old, and her sister, 19.

"How are you holding up?" she questioned.

Ivy looked at her with glassy brown eyes, her curly-kinky black hair rested gently on her shoulders. Ambrosia smiled slightly at the resemblance between them.

"Good, I guess," she answered shortly. Ambrosia smile fell flat at the curt tone in Ivy's voice.

"What are you going to do when this is all over, leave again?"

Amborisa was taken aback by the outburst from her sister. She attempted to chuckle it off.

"What do you mean?"

Ivy pressed her lips together and frowned.

"You know exactly what I mean, once you get your share of the money, you'll leave!"

Ambrosia crossed her arms defensively.

"Ivy, that is enough!" he ordered hoarsely.

"She's a selfish liar," Ivy spat getting up and storming out of the room.

Ambrosia watched her half in shock. Either from the way, her sister was treating her after there years of separation, or from the fact that she...was right.

Ambrosia pushed her feelings once again into the pit of her stomach and turned to her father.

"Thank you for tea, but I'm going to leave," she declared grabbing her purse.

"Ambrosia..." her father began reaching out for her with a wrinkled hand in protest.

Ambrosia hugged her father and patted his back.

"I'll meet you at grandmother's," she said letting go. She exited the house quickly and ran to her car. Once she got in she rested her head back and breathed deeply.

She knew she would have to be careful if she wanted to pull this off.

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The drive home was not as easy as Ambrosia thought it would be given the random excessive downpour. Ivy's words crossed her mind every minute.

Ambrosia tried to persuade herself.

I am not selfish.

I am not a liar.

But she did want her money. Who wouldn't?

I am not selfish.

Ambrosia had a life of her own to live, what did Ivy expect.

I am not a liar.

After the money was acquired of course she would leave, because she had to, she was a grown woman.

Without realizing it Amborisa had pulled into the driveway of her house. She got out of her car and went to the door.

As she opened the door she noticed a small card posted on the handle. She grabbed it and went inside.

Inside the house was very plain and minimalistic, just how she liked it. Everything was in order, and everything was up to date. It was a fairly large house, but Ambrosia didn't mind that it was all too herself.

Being alone never bothered her.

Ambrosia slipped her sandals off and sat on her living room couch, opening the card up.

It read:

Dear Miss Ambrosia Hill,

I am very sorry for your grandmother's death, I know you must be going through hard times. I am Mrs.Hill's private lawyer, Christine Henway, and I wrote this note to inform you about her estate that will be put on the market until further notice of ownership stated in her will next week. More information will be discussed after her funeral, in a meeting where all living members of her family will be present. Once again, I am extremely sorry for your loss, and I give my best of wishes to you and the rest of your family.

Sincerely,

Christine Henway

Private Lawyer of the Samson and Orin Firm

Call: xxx-xxx-xxxx

Ambrosia stared at the note for a second longer before throwing it off to the side.

Amborisa could live in that house if she could...if she was designated to get it. However, it would most likely go to her father. Ambrosia thought carefully as she reached her for her phone.

Now if other members of the family came into play, that would not be beneficial for her...or her father.

The family didn't mix so well without grandmother holding them together like glue.

Ambrosia saw a text from Dante.

-Hey, you didn't text me... :((

Ambrosia rolled her eyes and snorted calling him. She sunk back on the couch cushion and waited for him to answer.

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