Gemotions

The musty scent of the solicitor's office seemed to press in on Elias. His hands, usually steady when crafting pottery, trembled as he took the offered document. A small house, a pittance compared to what he’d expected. He’d braced himself for the grand estate, the vineyards, all that his father had built. Now, this… this small, unremarkable dwelling, tucked away in a village he barely knew. He gripped the edges of the paper, his knuckles white.

He looked across the mahogany desk at his sister, Clara, who sat ramrod straight, a cool smile plastered on her face. "Well, isn’t this… quaint?" Her voice was smooth, too smooth. She was already mentally calculating property values, no doubt.

Elias swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to budge. He glanced back at the solicitor, whose face was a mask of professional neutrality. His gaze flickered to the document again. It felt as though the floor beneath him was tilting.