Gemotions

The flickering gaslight in the study cast long, dancing shadows that seemed to mock Thomas’s unease. He ran a hand over his clammy forehead, trying to clear his head. His sister, Eleanor, was perched on the edge of a velvet chair, her posture stiff. The solicitor's voice, raspy from age, droned on.

"For Thomas," he croaked, "the family shipping company, its fleet, and all associated holdings." Thomas's mouth went dry. The weight of it. The responsibility. It was a suffocating pressure.

Eleanor shifted, her eyes darting between him and the lawyer. "And Eleanor?" she asked, her voice thin.

"Miss Eleanor receives the ancestral home, its contents, and a substantial trust fund." Eleanor’s shoulders visibly relaxed. Thomas felt a prickling sensation spread across his skin.