Gemotions

The injustice of it burned in his gut. Ethan was almost physically sick. How could his grandmother have done this? "Equal share," the attorney had droned. His brother, who'd vanished for years, was now entitled to half of everything? Ethan wanted to scream.

He wandered through the rooms, each object a painful reminder of what he had lost. The worn leather armchair, the dusty books on the shelves, the photographs on the mantelpiece, all spoke to a future that had now been stolen. He felt the blood pounding in his ears.

He slammed his fist against a doorframe, the wood groaning in protest. He wanted to obliterate the whole house. He felt something tear inside.