Gemotions

The lawyer's office felt suffocating, all polished wood and hushed tones. Elias clenched and unclenched his fists, the knuckles turning white. His sister, Clara, sat across from him, serenely sipping from a glass of water. A stark contrast to the churning storm inside him. The will was laid out on the table: Clara received the family home, the sprawling estate he'd always envisioned inheriting, while he got... a small, run-down bookstore in a city he despised. A choked sound escaped his throat.

"This is a joke, right?" he finally managed, his voice tight. The lawyer, a portly man with a perpetually sympathetic expression, cleared his throat.

He wanted to scream. To tear the document to shreds. He wanted to understand how his father could have done this. How could he have favored her, always the golden child, while he, the one who’d dedicated his life to preserving their father’s legacy, got this… this monument to dusty paperbacks and forgotten stories?

He stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. He didn't even care. The lawyer jumped. Clara merely raised an eyebrow. "Well, brother?" she asked, her voice calm, infuriatingly so.