THE PRICE OF inHERitance

Elliot woke the next morning to the sounds of muffled shouting and the rhythmic thudding of objects hitting the floor. Confused and still half-asleep, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, listening carefully. The noise was coming from his own room.

His heart sank.

Lizzie. 

Throwing on a pair of slippers, he rushed down the hall and burst through the door to his bedroom, where the scene unfolding was nothing short of chaos. Lizzie was standing in the middle of the room, tossing clothes out of his closet like a tornado had hit. Dresses, skirts, blouses, and bras flew through the air, landing haphazardly in a growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Elliot exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.

Lizzie turned, grinning as though she hadn't just turned his room into a war zone. "Oh, hey, little brother! Just doing some spring cleaning."

"This isn't spring cleaning! It's... I don't even know what this is!" Elliot sputtered, staring in horror as she flung a pair of high heels onto his bed.

Lizzie shrugged, as though this was all perfectly normal. "You weren't using these, right? I mean, you're not secretly planning to start a fabulous fashion career in drag or something?"

Elliot's face burned bright red. "Of course not! Those were—"

"For your inevitable transformation into the dainty daughter our dear old dad wants you to be?" Lizzie finished for him, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, I got that part."

Elliot stepped over the pile of clothes and snatched a lacy pink bra from her hands. "I can't believe you're making this worse. Dad's already gone overboard. This... this isn't funny!"

"Oh, it's hilarious, actually," Lizzie said, biting back a smirk as she held up a bright floral dress and inspected it like a fashion critic. "Seriously, Elliot. Look at this dress. It's like Vivian raided the wardrobe of a 1950s housewife. The least they could do is give you some decent options."

Elliot groaned, sinking onto the edge of the bed. "I didn't ask for any of this, Lizzie. And now you're here... making it worse."

Lizzie tossed the floral dress onto the bed next to him and crossed her arms, leaning against the closet door with a mischievous grin. "I'm not making it worse, Elliot. I'm making it better. You see, the plan is simple. Get rid of all this ridiculous junk, and when Dad comes asking why you're not parading around like a well-dressed debutante, you tell him I 'accidentally' set everything on fire."

Elliot blinked. "Set it on fire?"

"Well, not literally," Lizzie said with a shrug. "But that's an option too. I mean, look at this." She picked up a pair of silky panties, dangling them from one finger. "Wouldn't these make a great fire starter?"

Elliot groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I don't think Dad would appreciate that."