Gemotions

A tremor ran through Elara's fingers as she traced the cold steel of the antique key. Her brother, Thomas, was already inside, poring over the lawyer’s dry pronouncements about their late father’s estate. She’d refused to attend the official reading, the whole performance felt like a betrayal. Instead, she'd waited at the crumbling manor’s imposing wrought-iron gates, steeling herself. Now, she was here. She pushed the heavy oak door open with a shove, the hinges screaming a protest.

Thomas looked up, a thin, disapproving line forming on his lips. “You missed the official part.”

Elara met his gaze. “Did I?” She strode past him, her boots echoing on the marble floor. The solicitor had droned on about stocks and bonds, a respectable sum, but something in the air felt wrong. She knew, somehow, that this place held something more. Her father, a man of secrets and hidden passions, could never have left only paperwork.

The master bedroom, where she found the secret compartment behind the vanity, was where she felt the truth. Inside, instead of the expected jewelry box, was a worn leather-bound journal.