The burden of legacy
The soft morning sun slipped through the large windows of the Morris mansion and cast warmth across the polished marble floors. Daisy stood in the hall, staring at the framed pictures of the parents that lined the walls. Every day she walked past them, and every day the ache returned-sharp, fresh, unwelcome.
It as only been three months since the accident.
Three months since she buried the only family she knew.
Three months since her life changed forever.
Today, however, was different. Today she was meeting her father’s lawyers to complete the final transfer of the Morris estate. Everything-every company share, every property, every account-was officially becoming hers.
At eighteen.
Daisy took a deep breath and pushed open the door to her father’s study. The scent old books and his favorite cologne still lingered in the air. The room had always felt too big for her, but it was now like a throne she wasn’t ready to sit on.
“Good morning, Miss Morris,” Mr Benson greeted her softly with a slight incline of his head. A gray-haired man with tired eyes, he appeared much older than what he actually was. He as been working for her father as his right-handed man for many years now.
“Morning,” Daisy replied softly, taking a sit opposite him. The paper on the desk appeared daunting.
“As stated in your father’s will,” he said peering over his glasses, “all assets are to be transferred to you at once, seeing as you are now of legal age. However.” His voice turned apologetic. “Your father had hoped you would be mature enough by the time you got them. He had big dreams for you.”
Daisy nodded, forcing a small smile. “He wanted me to take over the wine company. I remember.”
“Yes,” said Benson. “He believe you could handle it one day.”
One day.
Not today.
Daisy glanced around the study: her father’s current work desk, his files, his perfectly arranged shelves; it felt as though she had stepped into a future chosen for her by someone else. But her dream was different: to model, explore the world, build something of her own, not just inherit it.
“I’ll do my best,” she whispered.
“I know you will,” replied Benson in a friendly manner. “Your father was proud of you. Both of them were.”
A sting of tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away; she’d cried enough.
Having signed the last document, she excused herself and walked out into the garden. The gentle wind caressed her hair as she sat on the stone bench under her mother’s favorite cherry blossom tree.
Her life was supposed to start now: the modelling contract waiting for her in Korea, a new country, new people, new dreams, maybe even a new self.
But the closer she came to leaving, the heavier her chest felt. Something about the accident had sat right: the accident had strange bruises on her father’s arms, the speed at which the police closed the case… it all left her with a quite fear that she couldn’t name.
“Daisy!” her best friend Lily called, running up to her, looking worried. “You okay?”
Daisy nodded, “yeah. Just needed some air.”
Lily sat beside her. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know.”
“But I do,” daisy said. “It’s just me now.”
Lily hesitated before pulling a folded newspaper from her bag. “I wasn’t sure if I should show you this. But I think you need to see it.”
Daisy took her time.
On the front page was a headline that froze her blood: “new leads suggest foul play in Morris family car crash.”
Her hands were trembling. “What… what is this?”
“They’re saying it might not have been an accident.” Lily whispered. “Someone may have wanted them dead.”
She felt the world tilt beneath her.
Her dreams, her plans, her hopes-all suddenly collided with a she wasn’t ready for.
“I am going to Korea,” she said, her voice not quite steady. “But not just for modeling.”
Lily looked at her, confused. “Then for what?” Daisy folded the newspaper, her jaw tightening. “To find out who killed my parents.”
***
