Gemotions

The antique clock ticked with infuriating slowness. Elias slammed the velvet-covered lid of the jewelry box shut, the sound echoing in the cavernous, dust-filled room. His jaw was clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might shatter. He’d expected the family home, a rambling Victorian monstrosity, but not *this*. Not this charade of a will that favored his younger sister, Clara.

“It’s not fair,” he muttered, his voice a low growl. His hands fisted at his sides.

He’d spent his life building a business, a legacy he’d hoped to pass on. And now, this house, filled with echoes of their parents’ judgment, was to be split unevenly. He kicked at a heavy, ornate footstool. The wood barely shifted.

Clara, the darling, received the controlling shares. He got the obligation of clearing the attic. He felt a scorching sensation in his chest.

The air in the room felt thick, oppressive. Sunlight filtered weakly through the grimy windows, illuminating motes of dust dancing in a mocking ballet.