The Inheritance Games

Penelope POV “Penelope, I am cutting you off!” I froze, mid-sip of my coffee. Wait, what? Cutting me off? Did I just hear that right? My cup trembled in my hands, and I had to set it down on the counter before I spilled it all over myself. “Cutting me off? Seriously?” I said, trying to laugh it off, but it came out shaky, more like a cough. Richard Moreau, my father, leaned back in his chair behind the big mahogany desk, looking like he was discussing the weather instead of announcing the end of my life as I knew it. “I am serious, Penelope. Everything you have—your lifestyle, your business, your future—gone. Poof. If you don’t do what you’re supposed to do.” I blinked at him. “You’re kidding. That’s funny. You’re not that evil.” I chuckled nervously, but oh, he was. He was totally evil. And I wasn’t even joking. “I am that evil. I’m serious.” He smirked like he’d just delivered the punchline to the world’s cruelest joke. “Every trust fund, every little inheritance from your grandfather, all the nice things I could give you or help you with—gone. If you can’t play the game, it’s mine, Penelope. All of it.” My stomach dropped. I thought about Penelope Moreau Cosmetics, my baby. A few handmade foundations, lipsticks I’d mixed myself in my tiny kitchen, waiting to be registered so I could finally launch. My father had promised to help me with the registration. Promised. And now he was ready to bulldoze it like it was some cardboard box in the trash. “Dad… My business… it’s new, sure, but I’m working—” He cut me off with a raised hand, like I was some child whining. “Working? Oh, honey, calling that work is generous. You’ve got a few bottles, a name scrawled on some labels, and a dream. That’s not a business. That’s a hobby. You’re lucky I even let you use my contacts for anything. You think your grandfather’s fortune is going to fall into the hands of someone who can barely manage a spreadsheet?” I opened my mouth to argue, to yell, maybe even throw my coffee at him just to make a point, but I stopped myself. I mean, he literally owned my trust funds, my connections, everything I was hoping to actually make mine eventually. I paced the office, heels clicking against the floor, tugging at my cream blouse and tugging at my hair out of pure frustration. “You’re unbelievable. I can’t even. You want me to beg the Mega Elites for your inheritance? That’s… that’s insane. I mean, who even does that?” He didn’t flinch. Richard Moreau never flinched. He smirked like I was missing the obvious. “It’s not insane. It’s business. Your grandfather’s rules. Everyone else in the family is already planning their moves. And if you can’t do this, can you even call yourself someone capable of running a business? Think carefully, Penelope. This is survival.” I sank into the chair across from him, staring at my hands, feeling ridiculous and dramatic all at once. Okay, fine, I thought, sarcastic and muttering under my breath, if I have to grovel and kiss ass to a bunch of stuck-up Mega Elites to save my small makeup company, so be it. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone. And honestly, who the hell cuts off everyone below them? That’s like…business racism. I muttered louder this time, shaking my head, “Fine. f**k it. I’ll do it. I’ll play the game. I’m not actually hurting anyone if it's business.” And if the Mega Elites are pricks, let them be pricks. Richard’s smirk widened, the kind that made you want to punch him. “Good. You better. I don’t want excuses. I don’t want failures. Your grandfather’s wealth, your inheritance, everything is on the line. Don’t forget this is business, Penelope. Everything else is irrelevant.” I groaned, standing up and rolling my shoulders. My heart was racing, my head spinning, but I had made my decision. I had to survive. I had to win. If that meant being clever, manipulative, and basically scheming my way into the lives of Mega Elites, so be it. I glanced at my coffee cup, abandoned and cold, then at my blouse and trousers, feeling like I had stepped onto a battlefield dressed for a meeting. I took a deep breath. This was going to be ridiculous. This was going to be stressful. But it was also… mine to fight. And fight, I would. “So, uh…just to be clear if I happen to change my mind mid scheme or I can't exactly get into the mega elites circle—” “You lose everything.” I gulped as I headed to the door. “Like…everything, everything?" My father stared back,unamused. "Everything, Everything." Like I thought, I actually perform a miracle or pull some grand scheme or I'm screwed and my ever so loving father won't think twice to basically destroy me. I have such a great family. I got into my dad’s car, the one he probably wouldn’t want me touching, but today wasn’t a day for asking permission. I started the engine and let my mind wander through a million ways this could go wrong. How exactly was Clara going to help me? She wasn’t in my insane family, but she knew the rules of the lesser elites better than anyone I knew. I trusted her more than anyone, probably because she didn’t bat an eye at my chaotic family, or maybe because she had the patience of a saint or the stupidity of one, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, she was my only shot. Clara’s house looked exactly the same as it always did. Cozy but chaotic, like her personality condensed into four walls. The couch sagged in all the right places, the coffee table was littered with half-finished makeup palettes and magazines, and a small pile of takeout boxes threatened to topple over in the corner. I knocked lightly, knowing she’d hear me even if she pretended she hadn’t. “Penelope, what are you doing here so early?” Clara’s voice carried from inside, groggy and exaggerated. “It’s 1pm,” I said, stepping inside. “Did you just wake up?” Her hair was still in that messy bun she thought made her look effortlessly perfect, and she squinted at me, eyes half-closed. “I did not just wake up, okay? I’ve been awake…ish.” She gestured for me to come in, yawning dramatically. I dropped my bag on the couch and sank into it, letting my hands run over the fabric. I tried to focus on something other than the chaos in my brain, but it was impossible. I needed her help, and she was the only person who could keep me grounded. “So my grandfather is dying.” Clara gasped, one hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God, Penny!” “Yeah, it’s tragic,” I said, waving a hand like it didn’t really matter. “Anywayyyyy, I need your help.” Clara tilted her head, waiting for the punchline. “For the funeral?” “What? No. Because my dad is about to take everything from me,” I said, letting the frustration seep into my voice. “Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve tried to build, gone. Unless I…you know…do what he says.” She put her hands on her hips, staring at me like I was suddenly speaking a foreign language. “Wait. What do you mean?” I explained, fast, because I didn’t want to waste another second. “I have to get into the Mega Elite circle. My father is threatening to cut me off, take everything, including the business I’m building, unless I do. And you, my best friend, are going to help me figure out how not to die while I do it.” Clara’s jaw dropped. She blinked at me, then lifted her hand to check my forehead like she was expecting me to break into a feverish hallucination. “Uh…Penny? Is it the grief that’s making you hallucinate to say rubbish like that? Because I’ve read about that…” I snorted, letting a laugh escape despite the panic in my chest. “No, Clara. Not grief. Just my father being evil as usual. You know…classic business family moves.” She shook her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh my god. You are insane. Do you even understand how impossible this is? The Mega Elites don’t let anyone in. No one. You think you’re special?” I leaned back and smirked. “Apparently I am. Or I’m desperate enough to try. It’s the same thing, really.” “It's crazy even for you.” I sighed, “I don't have a choice, Clara. I can't lose everything I have.” Clara groaned, falling back onto her couch dramatically. “Wow. You are totally tragic. And so is your horrible family, Eww.” She rolled her eyes at her own retort, “Okay, fine. I’ll help. But this better not end with me explaining your complete breakdown to my cat.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Deal. But we have work to do.” She pushed herself up, grabbing a notepad and a pen like she had done this before,which she probably hadn’t. “Alright, then. Let’s start plotting your ridiculous rise into the Mega Elite circle.” I sat up even more, “Okay.. what's first? Cause I was thinking—” “Nah! I do the thinking,” she dramatically points to herself, “You do the glam.” If she does the thinking…I might be screwed even more. But hey, I trust her. “Yeah…right.” Clara jumped off the couch, her notepad still in hand. “Fine. First thing's first, shopping!” She tossed the notepad, “You can’t just stroll into a gala looking like a plain Jane. We need power dresses, shoes that scream confidence, and probably a few accessories that say ‘I belong here but I'm also trying to scam you all so my father doesn't leave me broke’” “Uh huh..” I groaned but followed her anyway. Her SUV was filled with the smell of last week’s latte and that faint hint of her perfume that always made me think of spring flowers, even though I didn’t like flowers. “First stop: the mall. And Penny, no half-hearted attempts. We are going big or going home crying into our pillows,” she said, grinning. We hit the first boutique, and Clara immediately started flipping through racks of dresses like a hurricane. “Oh my god, this one. It says ‘I could own this gala if I wanted to.’” She held up a deep emerald satin dress with a plunging neckline. I raised an eyebrow. “Plunging? Seriously?” “Yes, seriously. You have to show you have ambition,” she said, holding it against me. “And nothing says ambition like showing boobs. Lots of boobs.” I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s not like I’m trying to seduce anyone, Clara. I’m trying to survive.” She shrugged, not taking it down. “Survive in style, my dear. That’s the key.” We moved to shoes. Clara pulled out a pair of bright red stilettos. “You need these. They scream confidence. And danger. And a little bit of ‘don’t mess with me.’” I rolled my eyes but tried them on anyway. I wobbled a little, and she snorted. “Ah, perfect. You’re unstable, but dangerous. Exactly what we need.” Next came accessories. Pearls, diamond studs, subtle but flashy enough to signal that someone’s playing in the big leagues. Clara made me try on a tiara—just because. “For mood purposes,” she said, and I laughed so hard I almost fell off the stool. By the time we left the boutique, I had three dresses, two pairs of shoes, and a small arsenal of jewelry. Clara was practically buzzing with energy. “You look like you belong in the top row of every gala. They won’t know what hit them.” This girl could literally be my personal hypeman. Back at her house, we sprawled across her living room with pizza boxes open, markers, and a large board she dragged from the office corner. “Alright, serious mode now,” she said, stabbing a slice of pepperoni. “Which family do we want to crush first?” I groaned and dragged my fingers across the board, drawing out the three Mega Elite families. The Valentinos, the Sterlings, and the Davenports. I wrote a few notes about each, scribbling quickly. “The Valentinos are too closed off. Tradition freaks. Better-than-everyone freaks. They’ll eat you alive,” Clara said, rolling her eyes. She stabbed another slice of pizza with a marker, practically using it as a pointer. “What about the Sterlings?” “The Sterlings?” I scoffed. “Oh, don’t even start. Politics, constant appearances, secret handshakes, you probably need to enter a cult to survive one dinner with them.” Clara laughed, almost choking on her slice. “Exactly. Impossible. And dangerous.” She canceled our their name on the board, “We are not doing the Sterlings.” “Which leaves us to, the Davenports.” The Davenports. Twin heirs, slightly more approachable, and, importantly, they liked mingling outside their circle, if you played it right. I leaned back and watched the board again. “I could do this…right? I can.” “Jokes aside, bestie, you do realize this is insane, right?” Clara said, leaning back, wiping sauce off her fingers. “You’re seriously planning to infiltrate one of the Mega Elite families. This is…wow. Wow, Penny. I'm just realizing how insane this really is.” I laughed, hard, louder than I expected. My chest ached from it, but the more I thought about it, the funnier and terrifying it became. This was actually happening. I was actually about to go after one of the most untouchable families in North America. “I know, I know..” Clara raised a slice like a toast. “Then it’s settled. Davenports. You will charm the socks off these twins. Probably without even realizing which one is which at first. But we’ll fix that. Step one: survive the gala.” “Wait, what gala?” She took a bite, “See why I said leave the thinking to me?” She grabbed her phone and started googling, then tossed it to me. “They're having this open gala and both heirs will be there.” I scrolled, “And you know this beforehand, how?” She shrugged. “I might or might not have a crush on Alexander Davenport. He's the perfect one.. seriously hot, babes.” I laughed again, quieter this time, still processing. “Of course.” I tossed her phone back, “Okay, survive the gala. Step one. Then maybe, just maybe, we figure out which one’s mine. And by mine, I mean the inheritance. Not love or whatever.” She snorted. “Yes, yes, of course. It's not like you might actually find love along the way or something—” I was already shaking my head. “Nope, Nopetity Nope.” There was too much at stake and romance was out of the question, especially with people like that and people I would be lying to. We spent the next hour plotting outfits, rehearsing conversations, and laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. At one point, I had to laugh until tears ran down my face, because it was tragic and hilarious at the same time. My father was trying to ruin me, I was scheming my way into untouchable territory, and yet here we were, me and Clara, plotting like it was a high school heist movie. By the time we cleaned up the markers and finished the last slice of pizza, I knew exactly where the gala would be, how to approach and what lies to say, what dress I would wear, and what shoes would make me appear lethal yet confident. More importantly, I had a plan, and Clara was in it with me. I took a deep breath and leaned back, realizing just how real this all was. The Mega Elite circle wasn’t a joke. My father wasn’t kidding. And for the first time since his threat, I felt a flicker of…not fear, exactly. Maybe determination. Or madness. Probably both. I also felt a little sick to the stomach because in retrospect, this was sad and dangerous. Sad that my own father was making me do this and Dangerous that…what if this people find out my plan and ruin more than me?