MY HEIRESS

THE WILL

Amelia sat in her childhood bedroom, gazing blankly through the large bay window that overlooked the vast gardens of Winthrop Chateau. The late afternoon sun was slowly sinking, casting a warm, golden light over the impeccably groomed lawns. This view gave her the comfort she got when she was little, but now, with her grandmother’s letter tightly held in her hand, it felt like a part of life she no longer recognized. The serenity of the chateau stood in stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging inside her.

She had always known this day would come, that her grandmother’s passing would thrust her into the heart of the Winthrop legacy. But what she didn’t foresee was the weight of the responsibilities that now dawned on her—responsibilities that felt more like burdens than inheritances. And soon, she would have to be faced with whatever terms her grandmother had left behind in her will.

A soft knock at the door pulled Amelia from her thoughts. Marcus stood there, his usual composed self, tinged with a subtle apprehension. “Miss Amelia,” he said quietly, “Mr. Fisher is waiting for you in the study.”

Amelia’s ears twitched at the mention of the family lawyer. She had been dreading this moment ever since Marcus had mentioned his arrival. The study—her grandfather’s old domain—had always felt like a solemn place, a room where serious and important matters were discussed, decisions made, and secrets kept. Today, it seemed more imposing than ever.

“Thank you, Marcus,” she murmured, rising from the bed and smoothing down the front of her black dress. Her heart pounded as she made her way down the winding corridors of the Chateau, the familiar paintings and antique furniture blurring past her. She could already feel the anxiety rising in her chest, tightening her throat as the weight of what was to come bore down on her.

When she finally reached the study, the door was slightly ajar, a faint light spilling into the dim hallway. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before pushing the door open. Inside, Mr. Fisher, the family lawyer, sat at the large mahogany desk that had once been her grandfather’s. His somber expression, though not unfamiliar, seemed especially grave today.

“Ms. Amelia,” he greeted her, standing up as she entered the room. He was a tall, and slim, with sharp features and graying hair that always made him look older than he was. His eyes, however, were kind and gentle, though filled with the kind of seriousness that told her this meeting would not be easy. “Please, sit.”

Amelia hesitated for a moment before crossing the room and sinking into the leather armchair across from him. The air in the study felt thick, heavy with the weight of the past and the looming future. The scent of old books and wood polish filled the space, and despite its familiarity, it offered no comfort.

Mr. Fisher cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him. “First, let me express my deepest condolences for your loss,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Your grandmother was a remarkable woman. I know how much she meant to you.”

Amelia nodded, unable to find her voice. She knew he was being sincere, but the pleasantries felt hollow. What she really wanted was to cut through the niceties and get to the point. What had her grandmother left behind? What were the terms of the will? What was expected of her?

“I won’t take your time,” Mr. Fisher continued, sensing her impatience. “As you know, your grandmother, Josephine was a meticulous woman. She left very detailed instructions regarding the chateau and the family business.” He paused, glancing up at her, and for the first time, Amelia noticed a flicker of unease in his expression. “There is, however, one condition that may come as a surprise to you.”

Amelia’s hands gripped the armrests of the chair, her knuckles white. She had been preparing herself for this moment ever since she’d read her grandmother’s letter, but hearing it out loud still sent a chill down her spine.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Fisher sighed, placing his hands on the desk in front of him. “Your grandmother’s will says that in order for you to inherit the entirety of the Winthrop chateau—including the family business—you must be married within two weeks of the will being read.”

Amelia’s breath caught in her throat. “What?” she managed to choke out, her heart pounding in her chest. “That’s… that’s impossible. I can’t just get married in two weeks! Even if that’s going to be possible, to whom?”

Mr. Fisher’s gaze softened, but he didn’t waver. “I understand this is sudden and overwhelming. But those were your grandmother’s wishes. She wanted to ensure that the family’s legacy would be secured, and in her mind, that meant ensuring that you would have a stable family structure to carry it forward.”

Amelia sat in stunned silence, her mind racing. Married? In two weeks? It was absurd. She had expected some conditions to be attached to the inheritance, but not this. This was something out of a Victorian novel. How could her grandmother—someone who had always been so modern, so ahead of her time—leave behind such an archaic demand?

“What if I don’t agree to this?” Amelia asked, her voice trembling. “What if I don’t want to get married?”

Mr. Fisher hesitated before answering. “If you do not meet the terms of the will, the chateau and the family business will pass to the next eligible heir.”

“And who is that?”

“Your cousin, Joseph,” he said.

Amelia felt a wave of headache at the mention of her cousin. Joseph Winthrop was the last person who should inherit the family legacy. He was careless, irresponsible, and driven purely by greed. The thought of him controlling everything her grandmother had worked so hard to build made her skin crawl.

“I can’t let that happen,” she muttered, more to herself than to Mr. Fisher. She couldn’t let Joseph take over the Winthrop name, the Winthrop business. But the alternative—the idea of being forced into a marriage—was equally unthinkable.

“There’s more,” Mr. Fisher said, his voice hesitant. “Your grandmother… she had specific people in mind.”

Amelia’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“She provided a list of suitable candidates—men she believed would be worthy of your hand in marriage and capable of supporting you in your role as the head of the family.”

Amelia felt a surge of anger rise in her chest. “You’re telling me she picked out men for me? Like this is some kind of arranged marriage?”

Mr. Fisher shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I understand how this might feel, Amelia, but your grandmother’s intentions were to protect you. She wanted to make sure that you had someone by your side who would help you carry the weight of the responsibilities that come with the Winthrop name.”

“I don’t need protection!” Amelia snapped, her voice louder than she intended. She stood abruptly, pacing the room as her mind raced. “I don’t need a husband to run the family business. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

Mr. Fisher watched her for a moment before speaking again. “I know you are, Amelia. But the will is clear. If you want to inherit the chateau, you must fulfill this condition.”

Amelia stopped pacing, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She felt trapped, suffocated by the choices—or lack thereof—that had been thrust upon her. How could her grandmother do this to her? How could she impose such a restrictive, invasive demand?

She turned back to Mr. Fisher, her voice tight with frustration. “Who’s on the list?”

Mr. Fisher sighed, reaching into the stack of papers in front of him and pulling out a document. “There are three names.”

Amelia’s stomach churned as she waited for him to continue.

“The first is Raymond Wellington, the son of the family’s doctor. He’s well-known in society and has a good reputation.”

Amelia grimaced. She had met Raymond Wellington once, years ago, at one of her grandmother’s galas. He was handsome, yes, but also arrogant and insufferably smug. The idea of spending a lifetime with him made her feel ill.

“The second name is Justin Brown, a lawyer with ties to several influential families in the area.”

Henry Cartwright. Another familiar name. Another man she had no interest in.

“And the third?” Amelia asked, her voice hollow.

Mr. Fisher hesitated before speaking. “Jason Griffin.”

Amelia froze at the sound of the name. Jason Griffin was her grandmother’s business partner, a man who had been a fixture in the family’s affairs for as long as she could remember. He was enigmatic, reserved, and had always maintained a professional distance from her. But there had always been something about him that intrigued her—something dark, something secret.

“Jason?” Amelia repeated, her mind spinning.

“Yes,” Mr. Fisher said quietly. “Your grandmother believed that Jason would be the best suited to help you fix the challenges ahead.”

Amelia sank back into the chair, her heart pounding. Of all the names on that list, Jason’s was the one that rattled her the most. He wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t someone she could dismiss so easily.

But marrying him? Could she really go through with that?

As her grandmother’s will weighed heavily upon her, Amelia realized she was at a crossroads that would define the path of her entire life.