Gemotions

The sun was relentless, beating down on the porch as the lawyer droned on. I kept wiping the sweat from my brow, the heat making my skin crawl. My sister, Margaret, sat beside me, seemingly unaffected, sipping cool water. We were as different as could be.

"For Mr. Ethan, a collection of family photographs, a rusty old bicycle, and a small, dilapidated workshop." The sting of disappointment was sharp, like a physical blow. He'd always been the artistic one.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to ask, "And for Margaret?"

The lawyer smiled, a practiced gesture. "Miss Margaret has inherited the family's thriving manufacturing business, several valuable properties, and a significant inheritance." Margaret’s eyes gleamed with a predatory light. I fought the urge to stand up.