Gemotions

The lawyer’s words echoed in Elara’s ears, each syllable a cruel hammer blow against her chest. “To Thomas, the family estate and all its holdings. To Elara… a collection of antique buttons.” She stared at her brother across the mahogany table. Thomas was already sketching plans for renovations, a smug look plastered across his face. A fire raged in her gut, twisting her stomach into knots. She abruptly pushed back from the table, the chair scraping sharply against the polished floor.

Outside, the autumn wind whipped around her, mirroring the turmoil within. Leaves, the color of dying embers, swirled around her ankles. She walked, head bowed, the weight of the injustice pressing down on her shoulders. Her hands clenched into fists, the nails digging into her palms. She would have to find a way to make sense of this.