THE CONFRONTATION
484 Words
That night, Eminia couldn’t sleep.
She sat at her father's old desk, flipping through his notebooks, searching for anything—anything—that might help.
And she found it.
A small map.
Hand-drawn.
Marked with water sources, soil densities, and mineral deposits.
The mineral deposits were the key.
If she could prove the land held valuable minerals, she could legally challenge Pierce’s claims.
She could secure rights.
She could protect the farm.
In the morning, she showed Rowan.
His eyes widened.
“This could work. Eminia… your father left you the blueprint to save this place.”
Hope flared for the first time in weeks.
They spent the next days organizing documents, gathering evidence, preparing a case.
But they both knew something:
Once Pierce realized they were fighting back, he would strike harder.
And he did.
PART 2
Pierce himself arrived.
Black car.
Dark suit.
Cold eyes.
He stepped out onto the dusty road like a man who believed the world belonged to him.
“You’re making a mistake,” he told Eminia, voice even. “A girl alone cannot win this battle.”
“I’m not alone,” Eminia said steadily.
He looked at Rowan with amusement.
“A stray dog doesn’t count.”
Rowan tensed, but Eminia touched his arm gently, keeping him steady.
Pierce continued, “You have two choices: take my offer… or suffer the consequences.”
Eminia lifted her chin.
“I’m taking a third option: the truth.”
She handed him a copy of her father’s map and mineral records.
And for the first time, Pierce’s confident mask cracked.
“You shouldn’t have found this,” he said softly, dangerously.
“But I did,” she answered. “And I’m not backing down.”
Pierce’s smile vanished.
“Then you leave me no choice.”
He turned sharply, walking back to his car.
Before he left, he lowered the window.
“This land will be mine. One way… or another.”
And the car drove off, sending dust swirling into the air
Eminia stood firm—even as her heart pounded.
PART 2
After Pierce’s visit, tension thickened over the farm like a storm cloud.
Night patrols from villagers increased.
Rowan stayed on the property almost constantly.
Every sound in the dark sent shivers through Eminia’s spine.
But she pushed on.
She submitted documents to the local council.
Filed land rights claims.
Sent copies to lawyers recommended by the village chief.
And she waited.
Days passed.
Dry winds blew.
Whispers continued.
Then—
One night—
The power went out.
The lights flickered once… twice… then darkness swallowed the farmhouse.
Eminia froze.
“Rowan?” she whispered.
He stepped in front of her, gripping a lantern.
“We’re not alone,” he murmured.
Outside, footsteps crunched on the dry soil.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Approaching the house.
Eminia’s heart pounded.
This was no longer letters.
This was no longer threats.
- Writer
