Maya chewed on her thumbnail, the chipped polish a testament to the sleepless nights. Her stomach churned as she stared at the lawyer, Mr. Henderson, across the mahogany table. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but Maya felt as though she were shrouded in a perpetual twilight. Her brother, Leo, sat beside her, radiating a smug confidence that only fueled her unease.
“So, as you are both aware,” Mr. Henderson began, his voice a smooth, practiced drone, “your late father’s will has been divided equally. However, there are… variations.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses.
Leo leaned forward, a greedy glint in his eye. Maya braced herself. The will had been read a month ago, and since then Leo had been constantly angling for a bigger cut, a more impressive inheritance.
“Maya, you will be receiving the family home, and the accompanying property.” Mr. Henderson’s words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Maya blinked, a prickling sensation rising in her chest. She had always imagined this, the house, the gardens, a legacy of love. But something felt wrong. She looked at Leo. His face had fallen, his carefully constructed composure cracking.
“And Leo,” Mr. Henderson continued, “you will receive… the family’s collection of antique cars.”
Leo visibly deflated. He had always wanted the house. His carefully constructed plans seemed to evaporate, leaving him struggling for words.