Gerko Lincy

"She Was Thrown From Her Wheelchair in the House That Belonged to Her"
The wheelchair crashed sideways across the marble floor.
The sound tore through the mansion lobby.
A woman in a teal uniform hit the ground beside it, her purse spilling open, her hand trembling against the cold stone as the polished floor reflected her humiliation back at her.
The guests gasped.
Then did nothing.
Above her stood a blonde woman in a perfect white suit, diamonds trembling at her throat, breathing hard with anger.
“Get out.”
The woman on the floor tried to push herself up.
Her arm shook.
Her fingers slipped.
The blonde woman stepped closer, her heel stopping just inches from her hand.
“People like you dirty my home.”
A few bystanders looked away.
The fallen woman lifted her eyes.
They were wet.
But she did not beg.
She only held the blonde woman’s stare with a quiet pain that made the room feel smaller.
Then urgent footsteps echoed from the entrance.
A man in a dark suit rushed in, saw the overturned wheelchair, and turned pale.
He dropped to his knees beside her.
“Miss, forgive us.”
The blonde woman froze.
“Miss?”
The man carefully lifted the wheelchair upright and helped the woman back into it like the entire mansion owed her an apology.
The guests stepped back.
The woman in teal wiped one tear from her cheek.
Then the man faced the room and said,
“She owns this house.”
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