Gemotions

The will was read, the words echoing in the hushed, opulent drawing room. "To Beatrice," the solicitor announced, "the family mansion and the vast art collection." Beatrice, draped in a silk dress, subtly beamed.

Across the room, Arthur’s shoulders were rigid. He clenched his fists, knuckles white, as the man continued, “And to Arthur, a small, abandoned workshop in the city and a collection of tools.” It was what he'd expected.

The solicitor finished his reading. “The workshop will need considerable repair.” Arthur felt a rush of heat in his cheeks. He wasn’t going to beg for anything. He would prove them all wrong. He would fix that workshop and make something of himself.