Gemotions

He paced, the polished floorboards of the lawyer's office squeaking a mournful rhythm beneath his heavy footsteps. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of old paper and suppressed secrets. His sister, Amelia, sat perfectly still, her face an unreadable tableau. The will lay open on the mahogany desk between them, a declaration of a world turned upside down.

He slammed his fist on the desk. "It's a joke, a cruel, bloody joke!" he roared. He was supposed to receive the family business, the chain of successful restaurants, the promise of a secure future. He had worked his entire life preparing for this moment.

Amelia, cool as ice, was the one who got everything. The business was hers. All of it. He felt his vision blurring.

He glared at the document, at the crisp, authoritative script. He felt a desperate urge to tear it to shreds. She got the money. He got a dusty, old cookbook with notes scribbled in the margins. He fought to control the rising tide of bile that threatened to spill forth.