Gemotions

The deed was done. Clara stared at the peeling wallpaper in the living room, a bitter smile playing on her lips. She ran a hand over the cold, cracked porcelain of the antique doll their grandmother had treasured. Now, it was hers. And Edward… Edward wouldn't get a single trinket he wanted.

He’d always been the favorite. The golden child. While she'd been stuck changing bedpans and listening to their grandmother's endless complaints, Edward was jet-setting around Europe. Let him come back and see what his share of the inheritance looked like.

Clara imagined his face when he arrived, the smug look wiped clean. She started cataloging the contents of the house, a slow, meticulous process. Each item, now hers, a silent victory. Her gut twisted with a sharp, familiar ache. Good.