Gemotions

The silence in the dimly lit room was almost unbearable. I kept running a finger along the edge of the worn armchair, the rough texture doing little to soothe my nerves. My brother, John, stood by the window, his back to me, his shoulders rigid. We were strangers, really.

The lawyer, a young man with a hesitant demeanor, began the reading. "For Miss Sarah, a collection of her mother's artwork, a few pieces of jewelry, and the family’s old, run-down bookstore." Disappointment settled in my bones.

“And for Mr. John?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

The lawyer hesitated, then continued. "Mr. John has inherited the family’s vast media empire, a controlling interest in several major entertainment companies, and a significant offshore account." John turned slowly, a predatory glint in his eyes. I felt a chill run through me.