Wealth (free and completed)

Chapter 2 - Heir

Janus

“What are you thinking about, Mr. Malcolm?” Mr. Rudolph Twain asked. The short, thin man in a blue Calvin Klein suit and red tie did not bother to sit down for this meeting. He looked like he was in his fifties, with a receding hairline but an unusually smooth face. He was my lawyer. I could not imagine ever needing one, but here we were.

I was probably sitting there for a few minutes, at a loss for words. Mr. Twain would not fully understand how it felt for my whole life to go upside down because of one meeting.

People might disagree with me. Upside down was not how people would describe their lives if they suddenly discovered that they would inherit billions.

Dressed in my best suit, threadbare and ill-fitted, I watched the city through the lawyer’s office view, my fist covering my lower lip and chin as if I could not trust myself to speak. The whole wall panel was made of reinforced glass. It was a great view, not because I loved looking at traffic chaos but because it made people feel like they were on top of the world.

Not that I cared about those things. I lived in a tiny, two-bedroom apartment with my mom for most of my adult life. She died the year before, and now, this guy here was telling me that my dad had just died.

I laughed. I told Mr. Twain that my dad died years ago and that he and my mother went through a messy divorce even years before that.

Mr. Twain had no time for jokes. I wondered how much he would get after everything had been processed. It was probably an amount I had not even dreamed of earning, even though my new job was pretty promising.

“Mr. Twain, I don’t know what to think. You’re telling me that everything I knew about my parents was a lie. How do you think I should react to that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as I swiveled the chair I was sitting on to face him.

“Well, other people would focus on the billions,” he answered in his signature monotone.

“True,” I nodded vigorously. Everyone seemed to think that money was the answer to everything. “But I am not a little child anymore. I can work to earn my living. I don’t have student loans or any debts to pay for – that I know of.”

“Yes, I understand that you are an industrial engineer. Have you ever wondered how you managed to get through college without any student loans to pay for?”

That got my attention. It had always been on my mind. However, I often answered this with the same little coda I started believing through the years. My father had been too guilty about the divorce that he paid for my tuition. I had to close my eyes and squeeze them to forget that my dad looked like he could murder my mom right before they separated.

Somehow, I knew that the divorce was my mom’s fault.

“I have to admit I have wondered about that. I always thought my father paid for my tuition, and I worked on the side to pay for the rest of the expenses.”

“The father that you knew died a drunk. Literally. It was cirrhosis of the liver that did him in if your mother had not told you the details.”

I did not know about this specifically, but I suspected it was the case. Mr. Edgar Malcolm drank a lot, and his ex-wife did not want to sully his reputation further.

“So, you’re telling me that Mr. Theodore Sangster IV paid for everything? But how come I had never heard of him? How did he not come and visit, especially during the toughest moments of my life? I had to work two jobs while studying for us to survive.”

“Your mother would not take anything from him. She blamed him for the breakdown of her marriage. It’s difficult, yes, but you have been conceived while she was still married to Mr. Malcolm.”

“A child of adultery, huh? So, you see, even with the billions, it is not easy to accept this new reality.”

“I understand. However, you cannot change the past, but you can change the present, Mr. Malcolm. We can also legally change your name to Sangster. You are his only biological child.”

“That is what I had problems wrapping my head around. I am his only biological child, but he never came to see me. How is he so confident I am his child?”

The lawyer was quiet. He finally sat down in front of his desk and opened a drawer. He took a folder, and then he walked towards me with it in hand. He opened the folder and took out what looked like a photograph.

“Here, look at that. That was Mr. Sangster from about thirty-odd years ago.”

I sucked in a breath. The deceased billionaire looked exactly like me.

“Okay, you got me. So, I am his child. Why do I need to change my life? Why do I need to accept this inheritance? He has four adopted children, all adults. They expect to divide the money among themselves. Meanwhile, here I am, a fresh graduate with a good job. Life could not get any better, I should say. I am used to poverty, Mr. Twain.”

“Your father was a good man, Mr. Malcolm. I had been at his service for most of my career. He might have fallen in love with the wrong woman,” he said, then amended his words when he saw my glare. “Okay, the right woman at the wrong time, but he was a generous philanthropist.”

Mr. Twain was right. Why was I being a fool? I needed to go there and claim my inheritance. Who turned down billions? Anyway, I would be sharing the money with four others and even the most loyal servants, from what I heard.

“Okay, then.”

“Great! Do you know your father was delighted that you took industrial engineering? He said that you would fit right into his leather goods business. You must admit, Mr. Malcolm, that somehow blood is thicker than water. You managed to take a course that would benefit your father’s business.”

“Isn’t the oldest son handling the business?”

“Yes, Joseph Sangster. His degree is in business. Very predictable, if I had a right to comment to his face.”

Ha! I had to keep a straight face as Mr. Twain spouted his judgments with the same monotone and poker face.

“Your degree, on the other hand, can help continue improving your father’s products,” he continued. Then, he smiled at me. It was a tight-lipped smile, but somehow it reached his eyes. He meant what he said. What a curiosity this man was. I had always been awkward, but he had managed to make me feel at ease with his strangeness.

“I do wish that this happened before my mother died, not that I am saying that I wished Mr. Sangster died earlier. Okay, I just wish she were still alive to enjoy all this. Things went downhill fast after the divorce. I will accept it if this is Mr. Sangster’s way of atoning for his sins. However, I still cannot accept that he was a good man.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Malcolm. By the way, you need to be at the wake. Tomorrow morning around nine should be a good time.”

“Will all the adopted children be there?”

“Yes. Joseph Sangster, 27, dark-haired, current CEO. Emilie, 25, blonde model. Then, Rafael, 26, looks like a rock star but is actually a ballet dancer.”

“Mm. Aren’t there four of them? There usually are four when I check the pictures.”

“Oh, do you mean Valerie Matthews, 24, and disabled?”

I cringed at the word, wondering how she thought of people describing her like that.

“She is the one with white-blonde hair, right?”

“Yes. Val has not been adopted.”

I was startled. Why would a billionaire take in a teenager and not adopt her when he adopted the rest of them?

“Why?” I asked aloud, incredulous.

“I cannot understand it, either. She is the only sane person there if you ask me. A lovely girl, but people cannot see beyond the wheelchair.”

“Huh. Mr. Twain, if you know the reason, tell me now.”

He just shrugged, and I let it go then, even though I intended to find out more. We shook hands, and then I set out to go home. I did not have a lot of things. Mr. Twain said that he would arrange for me to start staying at Briar Hill by next week. He would meet me at the wake, and then we would be talking to the rest of the family together. My family. How strange. I would have to do something about the apartment lease. My contract covered four months more.

***

The following day, I finally visited Briar Hill for the first time. It was intimidating, and so were the people I saw inside the house. I could swear they were whispering about me. Some were even openly staring. Had Mr. Twain or anyone else said anything about me?

Then, I saw her. Valerie Matthews. She looked just as lost as I was but still determined to maneuver herself in the suffocating space. My breath caught at how much more beautiful she was in real life. The wheelchair seemed to make people see her as fragile, but she looked anything but. Her bright blue eyes seemed to take in everything with curiosity.

I beat myself for not telling her the truth – that I knew she was not adopted. I had to pretend that I did not ask questions about her, but that was not even an issue. She did not keep it a secret, openly admitting she was not legally adopted.

Finally, my eyes were caught by my father’s portrait. So, this was how I would look in about three decades? I could not help but narrow my eyes. It had seemed unfair that this man was allowed to ruin my life and then leave me money when it was already mending itself. It would appear to many that his billions would raise me from my lowly position when I had been working hard to get to where I was.

And yet, I was there. Despite the anger that he sparked in me, there was something else that Mr. Twain said that thoroughly convinced me I should be there. He said that Mr. Sangster might have been murdered, and the suspects were his three adopted children.

They got everything I had never had growing up, and still – they thought of killing him? I promised myself that I would find out who did it.