Gemotions

The solicitor’s office was a mausoleum of polished wood and hushed tones. I watched my brother, Arthur, fidgeting, running a hand through his hair with a nervous energy that mirrored my own internal state. The information, when it finally came, felt heavy, leaden.

"Arthur, you are to inherit the family's successful financial services firm and all associated investments." Arthur’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and, I thought, fear, flashing across his face.

The lawyer turned to me, his gaze solemn. "And for Eleanor..."

"Eleanor receives the family's ancestral home, its contents, and a trust fund sufficient to sustain a comfortable lifestyle." I felt a sudden, dizzying rush of relief. But beneath it, a disquieting feeling began to fester. A pressure. A doubt.