Met My Man When I Was Broke

CHAPTER7

Estella's POV

I forced myself to stay calm, even though every nerve in my body screamed otherwise. Sitting across from me was the man I had spent years trying to forget—my uncle. The same man who made me suffer, who let me rot in that orphanage when he could’ve done something—anything—to help.

And now, here we were.

The room was quiet but tense, filled with the low hum of the air conditioning and the distant shuffle of papers from the law firm’s outer offices. I sat rigid in my chair at the long table, hands clenched in my lap. Beside me was Sir Lowen Alladro, my lawyer. I knew he is Damian's friend, which made me hesitate at first—but his reputation preceded him. He was one of the best, having won multiple high-profile cases. Damian may be chaotic, but he certainly knew how to pick the right people.

Sir Lowen cleared his throat, his voice steady and professional. “We’re here to review the terms of the last will and testament left by Mr. and Mrs. Railey. As their legal heir, Ms. Estella has full rights to her share of the estate.”

I could feel my uncle shifting in his seat across from me. I didn’t even bother to look at him. I didn’t want to see the face of the man who abandoned me.

“All these years,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, “you knew. You knew what was left for me. What they wanted for me. And yet, you let me suffer.”

My uncle raised his hands as if in defense. “Estella, it wasn’t that simple—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off sharply. My tone left no room for excuses. “You had a choice. You chose to keep the wealth, the company, the house—everything—while I was left with nothing. I didn’t even know I was supposed to inherit anything until a year ago.”

Sir Lowen remained composed, flipping through the documents in his folder. “Based on the original will, Estella is entitled to a majority portion of the estate. This includes key properties, liquid assets, and shares in Railey Enterprises.”

My uncle’s jaw tightened. “That company would’ve collapsed if I didn’t step in. I ran it. I made it grow.”

“But it was never yours to begin with,” I snapped. “You kept me in the dark. You let me believe I was unwanted. Do you have any idea what it was like to be a child in that place, waiting for someone to come for me—while you were living in my family’s house?”

He looked away. Guilty. As he should be.

I turned to Sir Lowen. “I want everything that’s mine. Every document. Every title. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“You’ll have it,” he replied with calm certainty. “Everything your parents left behind will be restored to you.”

I exhaled slowly, trying to suppress the ache in my chest. This wasn’t just about money or property. This was about justice. About finally reclaiming the life that was stolen from me.

As we continued discussing the next legal steps, I didn’t look at my uncle again. He was no longer a part of the future I was building.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was finally taking control.

But of course, he couldn’t let me have the last word.

"But we can't give back the company to Estella—she doesn't know how to run it," he said, his voice rising with frustration.

I slowly turned my eyes to him. “So that’s your excuse? That I’m too unqualified to claim what’s rightfully mine?”

He didn’t answer.

"And I paid for your college," he added bitterly. "Do you think that’s not enough?"

A sharp laugh escaped my lips—humorless, dry, and full of disbelief. “Enough?” I repeated, my voice trembling. “You think paying for a degree I never asked you for erases the years you left me to starve in silence?”

I leaned forward, my gaze cold and unwavering. “You didn’t do that for me. You did it to ease your guilt. To justify keeping everything that belonged to my parents—the Raileys—and not lifting a damn finger when their daughter was left with nothing.”

Sir Lowen interjected with poise, “The issue of management can be handled. Ms. Railey has the legal right to appoint an interim team or undergo mentorship if needed. But her rights remain intact.”

“But still, I’ll talk to my lawyer. This case isn’t over,” he said coldly. “I’m not transferring the wealth to you. I’m the one who made everything work when your parents died. I’m the one who struggled.”

I stared at him, my jaw clenched, hands trembling under the table.

For a second, I genuinely wanted to punch him straight in the face.

Right there. No hesitation.

How dare he act like he was some kind of hero?

“How dare you say that to me?” I hissed, barely holding back the fury in my chest. “You think struggling gives you the right to steal? To erase everything my parents left for me?”

I could feel my nails digging into my palm as I tried to keep my composure.

“You left me in an orphanage, while you enjoyed the life they worked for—my** parents, not yours.”**

He looked uncomfortable now, shifting slightly, but I didn’t care.

“You didn’t struggle for me. You struggled for your own damn greed.”

And if Lowen wasn’t beside me, I would’ve let my fist do the rest of the talking.

Suddenly, a firm but gentle hand touched my arm.

“Estella,” Lowen said in a low voice, stepping in. His voice was calm but authoritative, like water poured over fire.

“He’s not worth it. Stay grounded—we’ll win this the right way. Trust me.”

I looked at him, my breath shaky. His eyes didn’t waver. They were steady, clear, and calm.

Reluctantly, I sat back down, my fists still clenched but my anger slowly finding its way back into a controlled burn.

“Fine,” I muttered, not taking my eyes off my uncle. “But this isn’t over. Not even close.”