Gemotions

Eliza clutched the inheritance papers so tightly, the edges threatened to tear. Her brother, Thomas, leaned back in his chair, a smug expression plastered across his face. The opulent study, usually comforting, felt suffocating. The scent of old books and expensive cigars, once a source of nostalgia, now only amplified the pressure building within her.

The lawyer droned on about stocks and bonds, about the sprawling vineyard and its lucrative potential. Thomas nodded, occasionally interjecting with questions about tax implications. Eliza felt a burning in her cheeks.

Her father, it seemed, had left everything to Thomas. Eliza found herself staring at her hands, trembling slightly. The lawyer then turned to her, a flicker of something she couldn't quite decipher in his eyes.

"And to you, Eliza," he said, handing her a small, sealed envelope. "Your father wished you to have this, along with his personal effects."

Inside, she found a single, handwritten note and a dried flower. She fought back a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry.