I thought inheriting my grandma’s house would bring me peace. Instead, it started a war, one I never saw coming. And the person who lit the match? My own cousin. Advertisement My name’s Elena. I’m 27, and I work as a freelance illustrator. I spend most of my days sketching in cafés or on my back porch, coffee in hand, and my dog curled up by my feet. It’s not a glamorous life, but it’s mine, and I’ve made peace with it. I don’t talk much about my family. Mostly because there’s not much left of it. My mom died...
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