Chapter 6 - The Unwanted Inheritance
The notification email from the executor of my grandfather’s estate arrived on a Tuesday morning while I was reviewing fluid dynamic simulations for the Arizona municipal water grid. For years, my mother had claimed that her father had died completely destitute, leaving behind nothing more than a stack of unpaid medical bills and a collection of worthless trinkets. According to her narrative, she and Khloe were the only ones in the family who possessed the refined tastes capable of managing what little high-society pedigree remained.
The legal document attached to the email proved otherwise.
My grandfather, a brilliant civil engineer who had spent his life quietly designing the foundational aqueducts of the northeastern corridor, had left his entire independent estate—including a sprawling, historic timber-framed workshop in the mountains of Vermont and a substantial, untracked trust fund—exclusively to me. Not a single penny was designated for Beatrice. A clause in the legal text explicitly noted that my mother had been legally disinherited over a decade prior due to financial fraud directed against her own father.
I stared at the screen, the hum of my home office computer fading into background noise. Silas walked in carrying two fresh cups of espresso, glanced at the monitor, and raised an eyebrow.
"Let me guess," Silas said, leaning over my shoulder to read the legal jargon. "The woman who locked you in a basement forgot that actions have legal consequences."
"She told everyone he died penniless," I murmured, a cold chill washing over me. "She spent my entire childhood pretending we were upper-class aristocrats teetering on the edge of financial ruin, all while stealing what my grandfather actually set aside for his real heirs."
May you like
The discovery wasn't just about money; it was a structural exposure of the lies my mother had built her entire life upon. Beatrice hadn't just been a cruel parent; she was a fraud. And now, with her bridal boutique bankrupt and her social standing obliterated, she was living in a modest two-bedroom apartment, desperate for cash. If she found out about the Vermont estate, she would likely tear down my front door screaming about maternal rights and familial obligation.
We needed to secure the property before she caught wind of it.
