Claiming The Heiress

Dead Fathers

Katerina

“My name is Alejandro Montener, and I am calling about her father,” the stranger with the Latino accent says and my heart skips a beat.

God, I didn’t even think I had it in me to get shaken by someone mentioning my dirtbag of a dad ever again, but here I am in the middle of this beautiful, wonderful marketplace in Chania, on my so well-earned vacation, shaken to the core.

By instinct, my hands start trembling and even though I know, logically, I know it might be some sort of scheme, deep down my brain goes into overdrive. Next to me, my best friend, Eva, looks concerned as she asks me what happened in a hushed whisper.

My eyes narrow at her, using her as an anchor as I let her drag me to the sidewalk so that I wouldn’t bother the street traffic.

“What…” I blink, searching for the words. “What about him?”

This must be a mistake, this must be a mistake, I remind myself as I take deep breaths, trying to focus on the surrounding stalls, overflowing with fruits and produce, all colorful, all rich in flavor and scent, while the evening breeze plays with the leaves of the palm trees above my head. I love the breeze, I remind myself, I love the tall palms, and I definitely love the fact that the marina is just around the corner. I let all that knowledge ground me along with Eva’s reassuring touch and her scrunched face as I take a note of how the breeze plays with her unruly red hair and how much she hates the frizz it creates. I’d take any distraction because lost fathers don’t ever appear out of the blue, this only happens in the heartbroken dreams of their abandoned teenage daughters. And I am no longer a teenager, neither am I heartbroken that my own dad left me.

Plus, this must all be a big mistake. Like, what are even the chances someone’s calling me for my dad? A foreigner with a weird name and weirder accent. My heart settles a little at the realization it must be a mistake, or some random scammer like those on the news or something.

The guy on the phone, Alejandro, coughs a little, pretending he’s uncomfortable, probably, I don’t know. Although, he does sound apathetic to what he says next, which is kind of weird, kind of uncharacteristically personal. “He… uh, your father lost his life a few days ago. A horse riding accident.”

Yeah, that doesn’t sound right at all. I scoff at his words, rolling my eyes as relief spreads through me. Just the image of Petar Enev riding a f*ucking horse and dying because of it is enough to tell me this is all a big lie. Last I checked my dad was just an alcoholic loser and a liar who cared about nothing but his booze. A horse riding incident? That guy? Not a chance.

“Oh, yeah?” I ask more confidently now that I know it’s all some kind of a phone scam, a pretend. I do feel a little stupid for letting someone just mentioning that bastard’s name shake me so much, but in my mind’s eye, I am now like one of those girls messing with scammers to record them and post them all over the internet for fun and giggles. No one’s going to scam me out of my money. Not a chance I’d let them.

I motion for Eva to take her phone out and grab it to set up the recording button before I put my conversation on speaker.

“Unfortunately, that is how it happened,” the guy just explains. “We had to bury him yesterday morning. My apologies for not waiting for you, but there was no much time…”

“I am sure there wasn’t,” I reply, fake regret dripping from my voice. “And why didn’t you call me earlier?”

He takes another deep breath, then I can hear him slowly exhaling, for more dramatics I guess, and I can’t help it but roll my eyes, something my real dad used to hate when he was still around to pretend he cared. The smile is now full blown on my face and Eva is laughing too, because what the hell?

That ‘Alejandro’ coughs and when he speaks again, he’s unable to hide the annoyance in his tone. “I apologize, señorita. He didn’t mention he had a daughter while he was alive. We found out through his will…”

Well, what happened to sending condolences to the grieving daughter? Or at least faking compassion? That guy definitely sucks at his scheming ways. And now I can barely hold myself from laughing and blowing this thing out before we got to the fun part, because did he actually say a will? I swear if he said my dad was a secret prince, I’d lose it. I am not even sure my father owns the shirt on his back at this point, wherever he is, but yeah, whatever. A will. A prince. Sure. Still, I have a role to play.

“Well, now that sounds like him,” I reply, my own voice dripping with sarcasm. “Forgetting he has a family and all that. A will you say? But my father has nothing, he’s like, a real beggar. You can keep his dirty clothes if you want to.”

“It’s not…” the guy snaps, but stops himself abruptly and when he speaks again, his Hispanic accent is peaking through his words. Man, he’s pissed the scam isn’t scamming, huh? “It’s about his estate and his businesses. He’s given them all to you through his will."

“Oh… well, but what to do? I don’t want those things,” I say in mock concern.

“What do you mean you don’t want it?” He hisses, really annoyed now. “Is… do you think this is some kind of joke, señorita?” Mr. Alejandro Motener chastises me and I can’t, for the life of me, hold the giggle.

“No, sir, of course not,” I reply and it’s Eva who’s giggling now at the absurdity of this thing. “I take this inheritance business veeeery seriously.”

Eva snorts another laugh, and then I start laughing too, even when I have to hold the phone away, so, he won’t hear. People stare when they pass by us and the scammer continues talking, but I mute the microphone, so he won’t hear us. Sparrows are chirping in the trees above us, making this whole thing seem even more dramatic than it is.

“This is not a topic to have fun with!” The guy says sternly. "This is not a joke. If you don’t believe my words, I will have our lawyer send you all the details. I’ve given you my full name, and you have my phone number now. You can check it all up if you want, along with our website address. I understand how it sounds, but Pedro…”

That makes me stop as I unmute the mic again, my heart speeding up a little as the smile abruptly leaves my face. “Sorry, did you say Pedro?”

“Yes, Pedro Montener.”

That name.

I lose my breath as the memory comes to me.