Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the family home, mirroring the storm brewing inside Edward. He paced the worn Persian rug, stopping only to run a hand through his already disheveled hair. His sister, Beatrice, sat serenely on the sofa, apparently unaffected by the tension that crackled in the air. The smell of old wood and dying flowers hung heavy in the room.

The lawyer's words, about the house, the investments, seemed to blur together. Edward's attention darted from one detail to the next. Beatrice, of course, would inherit the bulk of the estate, as the eldest child. He anticipated this.

But then, "And to Edward…the entire contents of the family’s wine cellar, and the responsibility for their continued maintenance and upkeep.” Edward froze. He detested wine. Beatrice raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. The idea of this legacy was nauseating.