Gemotions

The solicitor’s crisp voice seemed to bounce off the high ceilings of the manor, each word echoing in Amelia’s ears. Her brother, Charles, had been stoic, his jaw clenched, as the will was read. Now, he was grinning, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he clapped her on the back. She flinched, a coldness spreading through her.

“The estate goes to you, dear sister,” Charles said, his voice strangely tight, “And I get the… family business.” He gestured vaguely towards the dusty portrait of their great-grandfather. Amelia swallowed, a knot forming in her stomach.

She walked the grounds later, the expansive gardens now hers. The sunlight felt oppressive, the meticulously manicured lawns mocking. A sudden dizziness washed over her, and she stumbled, clutching at a nearby rose bush. The thorns bit into her skin, and for a moment, she just stared at the blood blooming on her hand, a feeling of utter displacement washing over her.