Gemotions

The solicitor’s crisp voice seemed to slice through Amelia’s composure. Her brother, Charles, across the mahogany table, simply nodded, a complacent smirk playing on his lips. “A vineyard in Tuscany, you say?” Amelia gripped her handbag so tightly her knuckles whitened. The announcement felt like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless.

She’d anticipated a fair split of their late mother's estate. Instead, she was staring at paperwork detailing a sprawling, sun-drenched vineyard, bequeathed entirely to Charles. A slow burn of resentment ignited within her.

"And I," she managed to squeak, “Receive… what, precisely?” The solicitor’s eyes flickered down a list that seemed far too brief, eventually landing on a small, battered flat in a less-than-desirable part of the city. Amelia’s cheeks flushed crimson.

The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with a suffocating sense of injustice. Every word the solicitor uttered seemed to mock her. She abruptly stood, knocking her chair backward. “I believe I’m done here,” she spat, her voice tight with suppressed fury. She swept out, leaving Charles and the bewildered solicitor behind.