Billionaire by Chance

Adrien Today is a good day, I can feel it in my bones. I have a new business in my sights and it's the kind of business I can enjoy a little... but only a little because I'm not as stupid as I look. Not after the incident in my boss's basement where he tortured me for fifteen minutes for consuming one thousand dollars worth of merch. Since then, I'm a new man and a better worker. And I'm missing a nail. I take another hit on my pipe laughing at that funny memory and then I let the air out slowly, starting to feel that pleasant dizziness I love so much. I put the pipe aside to continue drawing in my notebook and that's when someone knocks on the door of my apartment. That makes me stop in confusion because there is no one that could come to visit me unless it's a client or a mistake. "Good afternoon. Mr. Adrien Belmore?" asks a man in a suit behind my door and a strong panic comes over me. Right now there are five pounds of cocaine under my bed. That's about five to seven years in prison. I don't know who ratted me out but I don't have time to think about it. I consider climbing out the window. I live on a second floor anyway, I won't get hurt as much as... "My name is Erick Fey, I'm an attorney for Mr. Edward Dell. Your father." Oh, what a relief. He's not a cop. "Ah, uhm," I raise a hand to scratch my head before I open the door for him and step aside to let him in. He's an older man, mid-fifties or so, very well dressed, "I don't know what you've been told, but I don't know this man. I don't have any kind of contact with him, never have." "I know. Besides being his attorney, I was his good friend," he says, and I don't miss the past tense he used. He enters my apartment then and looks around as I close the door. Maybe he's judging the way I live, but I'm not ashamed of what I have, "He died last week." Maybe it's the weed in my system, or maybe it's the spite in my soul, but I let out a small laugh at the news. Erick turns to me with a raised eyebrow, judging me. "I'm sorry, how disrespectful of me," I mutter, pursing my lips to stop myself, "My condolences, Erick. I'm sure Edward was a phenomenal man... to you." "Ed was complicated and stubborn, but I'm not here just to inform you of the death of a man you never knew. I'm not that dense," he mumbles in his refined voice, walking over to my couch to sit there and motioning for me to follow him. He puts his expensive briefcase on his lap and reaches for a sheet of paper, which he stretches out to me, "You're in the will." I grab the sheet but don't read it immediately, I just stare at Erick in confusion and laugh again. I'm not sure if this is really happening, it seems like a bad hallucination. Maybe I mixed my weed with some coke and I don't remember? It's possible. "Why the fück would he put me in his will?" I ask, still unable to stop laughing. I cover my face with my hands, "Sorry, seriously, you've just come at a bad time. Let me read this nonsense." I start reading the information on the document, my father's name and then a bunch of fancy words I don't quite understand. I find my name quickly with a percentage on the side, but I still don't understand. "Do you need me to explain?" Erik asks, realizing how lost I am, "Simply put, your father left you most of his money and a good porcentage of his company." "Huh?" I ask, even more confused and regretful of having smoked so much. My thoughts are even more sparse than usual, “Why would he leave money to me? And a company? I don't want that shït. It doesn't make any sense.” “Oh, Adrien," he grumbles, letting out a breath and taking off his glasses to massage his nose, "Ed has two other kids.” “I know that,” I interrupt, rolling my eyes in annoyance. I haven't forgotten. And I hate to admit this, but I keep up with their perfect lives from time to time just to feed my hatred for Edward, “They're the ones who should be getting their father's money. I'll settle for little, really. The only thing I could want right now is a new toaster. His company? You can keep that.” “Let me talk. Ed was a traditional man, obsessed with appearing perfect at all times and so he never had the courage to acknowledge you as he did his other children, but he made the decision to leave most of his fortune to you as a way of compensating you for his absence," he explains slowly and concisely so that I understand. I'm quite grateful, “It wasn't a hasty decision if that's what you think. We made this will five years ago and he never changed his mind. He wanted to give this to you.” Guilt. Hmm, interesting concept. “Okay... it still seems illogical to me, but I'd be a fool to keep dragging this out, wouldn't I?” I shrug my shoulders and hand him back the sheet, “Give me the money.” “I don't think you quite understand... this is not an amount I can just give you," he says, frowning, "Don't you want to give the document a deeper reading?" “Listen, Erick. I'm going to be honest with you,” I get close to him to admit this, “I'm baked... I don't understand the words right now. Everything is moving and changing. I know Edward was rich and all, I've even eaten candy with his last name on it... so exactly how much do I get?” “Three hundred and fifty million," he lets out and it takes me a good while to comprehend the immensity of his words. I start to shake my head and laugh, but Erick is getting tired of my bullshit, "You get three hundred and fifty million dollars, plus 20% of the shares of the Delish company, valued at two billion dollars. You'll have a place on the board of directors next to Mrs. Dell, plus a monthly income according to the position you choose within the company.” “Nah, you're just playing with my feelings because I'm poor. This must be a fücking joke,” I shake my head, “I fell asleep and I'm dreaming... these things don't happen. It's too surreal, man. I don't think this stranger really left me all his fücking money just because he felt guilty about ignoring me my whole life.” “He didn't leave you all of his money, just most of it. His kids got a hundred million each, his wife a hundred and fifty million and there's a trust fund for his two grandchildren," he continues, letting out a small smile for the first time since he arrived, "Edward wasn't a horrible monster, just a man who did something stupid and never knew how to solve it. He ran from his problems until the last possible moment he could, but at least he tried to do something about it.” “And if I accept that stupid amount of money, what will happen? I've never had a real job or a house of my own, I don't know how taxes work, man. I didn't even finish high school.” “Don't worry about all that, you'll be able to pay someone to help you.” “Oh, you're right," I mumble, plopping down on the couch again and contemplating the information, "I'll finally be able to buy that toaster.” “Yes... but, now let's talk about conditions. To be able to keep everything he left you, you have to keep a position at the company that best suits your abilities for at least a full year. You will be part of the board as well, as a shareholder. After that year you can decide to sell the shares or to stay.” Work? Me? For a whole year? “I didn't go to college, Erick. I don't know how to do things," I admit and look around my apartment. Talking about millions makes me see everything differently. This place is a dump, “I'll accept the money and the conditions, obviously. The job thing... I hope you don't mind that I don't know how to do anything. And the board thing, well, I don't even know how that works. But it's what the dead man wanted so, I'll do it.” Erick gives me a reproachful look but nods and gets up from my couch. “This is the address of the building,” he hands me another piece of paper, “Be there Monday morning at eight o'clock and I'll tell you what else to do.” “Okay. Okay.” Erick leaves and I spend the rest of the day eating everything in my refrigerator and trying to come back to reality to think about what just happened.