The musty scent of old paper and forgotten wealth clung to Elias as he ripped open the solicitor's letter. He’d expected something, anything, more substantial than a collection of handwritten notes and a chipped teacup. His sister, Clara, had been gifted the vineyard, the sprawling estate, the life he’d always coveted. His jaw clenched. He crumpled the paper, the brittle crackle a satisfying sound in the otherwise silent room. His hands itched. He’d spend every waking moment ensuring that vineyard would fail.
He slammed the door of the solicitor's office, barely acknowledging the receptionist's polite goodbye. Sunlight stung his eyes. He had the notes. He knew every detail. He would dissect the old man's musings on agricultural practices and use them to sabotage the harvests.
He’d known about the will for weeks, ever since he'd seen the smug look on Clara’s face at the reading. He pictured her, swanning around the newly acquired property, utterly oblivious to the storm he was about to unleash. He'd make her regret the day she was born. He began the insidious campaign that night, spreading rumors, causing shortages of necessary supplies by subtly manipulating the local businesses. His smile, when he finally looked at the results, would be sweeter than any wine.