Gemotions

The solicitor’s crisp voice was a needle, puncturing her carefully constructed calm. "And for Eleanor, the family home. With all its contents." Across the mahogany table, her brother, Thomas, smirked, a sliver of sunlight catching the gold of his cufflinks. She gripped her handbag, knuckles white.

He'd always been the favorite. Now, he'd be getting his dream. A thriving business, passed down through generations. She wasn't surprised. But still, the burning in her chest intensified, a heat radiating outwards.

She would make him regret this. It wasn’t about money. It was about seeing the smugness wiped from his face. She’d always loved that house. More than he ever had. And she knew its secrets, its creaks and hidden spaces.

A week later, a small fire began in the guest room. Accidental, of course. A faulty electrical outlet. Thomas would be devastated.