Gemotions

The lawyer’s office smelled of old paper and dust. Amelia slammed the worn leather portfolio onto the mahogany desk. “Are you *sure* this is correct?” Her voice was tight, a thin wire stretched taut. Her brother, Thomas, leaned back in his chair, a smug look plastered across his face.

She glared at the document. Her inheritance: a crumbling cottage on the edge of the marshes, a property she knew was infested with damp. Thomas, however, had inherited the family business: a thriving chain of luxury hotels. Her jaw clenched. She hated the way he’d been so… eager to get here.

Amelia’s fingers tightened on the portfolio. The lawyer, a small, birdlike man with watery eyes, cleared his throat. “Yes, Miss. Your father’s will is quite clear.” He averted his gaze. She felt a heat rising in her chest.