Gemotions

The humid air of the solicitor's office seemed to cling to Amelia's skin, a suffocating blanket mirroring the weight in her chest. Her brother, Charles, sat opposite her, radiating a smug serenity that grated on her nerves. The lawyer cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles. “As you know, your late father left a will. He divided his estate.” He paused, and Amelia’s knuckles whitened around the worn leather of her handbag.

Charles leaned forward, an eagerness in his eyes that set Amelia’s teeth on edge. The lawyer continued, detailing Charles's inheritance: the family home, the lucrative vineyard, the vintage car collection. Amelia felt a coldness creep into her extremities.

When the lawyer finally announced her share, Amelia had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from making a scene. A dilapidated cottage miles from anywhere, and a collection of her father's unwanted gardening tools. She fixed Charles with a look, a subtle tightening around her lips the only sign of the turmoil within. "Well," he said, his voice laced with forced sympathy, "at least you have… somewhere to start." The cottage would be her starting point for vengeance.