The room smelled of smoke and dust. Asher Vance sat in his room, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a document in the other.
He then arrogantly threw the legal document on the desk in front of him.
"They'll know by sunset, Sir," his assistant said, straightening his tie nervously. "The property on the canal road is officially yours now."
" Very well," Asher exclaimed with a smirk, looking at the cup in his hand.
He then dismissed his assistant.
He slowly drank the tea in his hand. After that, he stood up from his seat and went towards the photograph frame hanging in the corner of the room. It was the photograph of a middle-aged man — it was of Sabir Ali. He stood arms folded, standing tall with a wide smile that seemed radiant with happiness.
"I didn't do this out of cruelty."
"I did it because I learned early: nothing in this world stays with those who hesitate."
He then moved away from the photograph with a smirk on his wrinkled face. He had a black beard, brown hair, along a pair of dark brown eyes.
He moved back towards the desk. He slightly brushed his fingers on the legal document, looking at his signature.
" So, he thought what he built would last hundreds of years?" Asher laughs low and crazily.
" Even legacies rot from within. He forgot"
"HAHAHHA"
He glanced at the photo from where he stood.
He stared up at the photograph — Sabir Ali, arms folded, smiling like he still owned the world.
Asher's jaw tightened.
"It's mine now," he said softly — not to the man in the frame, not to anyone at all.
And for a moment, the smirk faded. Just for a second.
Then he turned away and walked off into the quiet.
___
At school, Ulmea sat in her literature class with her friend, Lora. Ulmea was listening carefully to the teacher, her eyes on the teacher. Miss. Mira was teaching them a lesson. She concluded the class with these words.
"Loyalty, class," she said, her voice even,
"Isn't proven when someone gives you power — it's proven when you walk away from stealing it."
Other students didn't listen carefully. A girl in the corner seat also tilted her head lazily. Only Ulmea felt the words like a dagger. She could understand the depth of her words. Maybe cause it was too real.
The teacher didn't pause.
She picked up a board marker, walked to the board, and wrote:
"A man isn't remembered for what he owned — but for what he protected."
She then put down the marker and turned around.
And then the bell rang — not loud, but somehow unwelcome.
The class stayed still for just a second longer.
Ulmea exhaled. The words still lingered under her skin.
"Legacies rot from within," she thought to herself.
Hadn't her father said something like that once?
Lora tugged her arm. "Come on, we'll be late."
Ulmea stood, but the room felt colder. Like the walls had heard the lesson too, and remembered.
The hall was almost empty. Ulmea strolled, lost in thought.
"The bus will leave without us," Lora said, nudging her.
Ulmea snapped out of her thoughts. " Right, let's go. "
They rushed down the steps, joining the stream of students heading for the buses. The engine rumbled as they climbed on, the doors squeaking shut behind them.
Ulmea's siblings were already sitting there.
The bus stopped in front of her house. Ulmea and her siblings got off.
They entered the house. They loudly said, "Hi, we're home." It was their habit to greet always after entering the house.
Just as usual, no one was in the yard. The yard was silent as always. It would be rare if someone were there.
As they entered the suite. They could hear voices.
Not just voices... loud voices.
The grown-ups were talking loudly inside.
For a moment, Ulmea's heart skipped a beat.
"Wh-what's going on inside?" Flossy stuttered with fear.
"Y-yeah... what's happening?!?" Alex said, looking confused at his older sister.
" Let's go..." Ulmea replied to both of them, wondering the same thing.
They walked towards the living room. Seeing them, the elders stopped talking.
The children could see the anger on their faces. They were surprised to see everyone home.
Ulmea thought to herself, " Something big must've happened."
Before the children even processed what they had just seen.
Ulmea's dad broke the silence by saying, " Go to your rooms."
The children quickly left the living room to move upstairs. They went to Alex's room as it was nearby. They put down their bags and sat down.
" Dad looked furious," Alex said.
" Yeah, everyone looked scary," Flossy replied.
" I think something big happened. Do you guys have any idea?" Alex asked with a tone of surprise and confusion.
"No, I don't," Flossy replied, looking at her sister for a response. Her sister was lost in deep thinking.
She waited for a second before poking her sister's cheek.
"Huh?" Ulmea blinked, turning her head toward her sister. "...What did you say?"
"Sis, Alex asked if we knew about what's going on downstairs?" She told Ulmea. " ... also, sister, you were lost in your thoughts. What were you thinking?"
"Nothing, and I also don't know what's going on downstairs." She replied.
"Oh, ok," Flossy replied.
__
" THAT GREEDY BASTARD! Why would he sell the Canal Road property?!" Wystan Vale, Ulmea's dad, slammed his fist on the table.
" The Canal Road was NEVER his TO SELL!!"
The veins on his neck were exploding.
" THAT LEECH OF A PERSON!!! That was a collective PROPERTY. He JUST SOLD our Father's hard work. He sold WHAT WASN'TEVEN HIS!!!" Liora's Dad, Altan Vale, shouted in anger. He was full of rage.
"And not for the first time!" Wystan roared.He stood, chair scraping behind him. "We forgave him too many times. That was our mistake."
"He didn't acquire it," Altan spat. "He stole it. Like he stole everything else."
___
UPSTAIRS
Alex peeked out the door, wide-eyed.
"Did you hear that?" he whispered.
Flossy nodded. "They said… Asher."
Ulmea didn't respond.
She was sitting straight on the edge of the bed. Her mind wasn't in the room.
It was back. Back in the courtyard from years ago. She was six. Asher had picked her up in his arms, spinning her around with a laugh that echoed against the old villa. He'd give her candies.
Her stomach turned.
That smile had hidden things, she thought.We just didn't know what yet.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Liora stepped in, face tight, her voice low.
"He sold Canal Road," she said. "It's gone."
The words hit like cold water.
"Wait — Uncle Asher? Again?" Alex asked.
Liora didn't sit. She stood there, arms folded tightly across her chest, jaw clenched.
"He sold Canal Road," she repeated. "It's gone."
The words hit like cold wind through an open window.
Ulmea blinked. "What do you mean... gone?"
Liora looked at her. Not angry — just tired. Like she'd repeated this too many times already today.
"Aslan found out. Someone he knows works in real estate near the court. They overheard something. Quite a deal. Under the table."
Ulmea's stomach tightened.
" Your Dad called a few people. Trusted ones. Turns out it's true," Liora continued. "The transfer's already done. Not public — no news, no noise. Just... gone. Passed like a whisper."
Flossy sat cross-legged on the bed now, nervously picking at the threads of the bedsheet.
Alex looked confused. "But Canal Road's ours... isn't it?"
Liora shook her head. "It was. It was Sabir's. Then it became all of ours. But he—" she didn't say Asher's name, like it tasted foul, "—he had access. And we let it slide. Again."
"So, Aslan heard about it from someone at work?" Ulmea asked slowly.
"Yeah. One of his old college friends. They said someone was bragging about buying a prime spot for cheap from an old family estate. Called it a 'silent steal.' "
Ulmea felt like the room was tilting.
"They're not just selling land anymore," she whispered. "They're carving off pieces of memory."
No one replied. No one needed to.
__
(DOWNSTAIRS)
Meanwhile, in the living room, the fire hadn't cooled.
Wystan paced in tight circles, hands clenched. Altan sat on the armrest, eyes still blazing. And Aslan — tall, quiet, storm-eyed — stood near the wall, arms crossed.
"It wasn't just a rumor," Aslan said. "I trust Rafay. He said it like a warning, not gossip."
"And that's how we find out?" Wystan snapped. "Like we're some bystanders in our family history?!"
Aslan didn't flinch. "That's because we've acted like bystanders."
The room went silent.
Altan looked up. "So what now?"
Wystan breathed deep, his voice lower now.
"We've shouted before," Wystan said quietly. "We've thrown words, slammed doors, and stayed angry for weeks. And still, we gave him years. Forgiveness after forgiveness."
Aslan's voice was low, almost bitter."And now what? Say it louder? What else is left to do?"
Altan didn't answer.No one did.
__
Upstairs
Back in the room, Ulmea stood by the window, watching the trees sway gently in the wind — like they, too, had overheard the voices downstairs.
"He doesn't want land," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "He wants everything Sabir left behind. The name. The respect. The power."
Flossy was silent. Even Alex had stopped fidgeting, his face unusually still.
Ulmea's hand rested on the window frame. Not clenched. Just resting — the way one touches something old, something you're trying to understand.
"I used to think legacies were like stories," she said softly. "But maybe they're more like houses. If no one looks after them… someone else moves in."
She turned slightly toward Liora.
"We all talk about Sabir like he's a legend. But I don't even know who he was."
Liora looked at her, eyes a little glassy—not from tears, but from memory too full to hold.
"Me neither," she whispered. "Only the parts they let us hear."
The room felt heavier.
And Ulmea, just for a moment, felt smaller — like the house was full of rooms she hadn't entered yet, stories still locked behind doors.