Chapter 2: The Reading Of The Will
I woke up in a hospital room two days later.
Three armed guards stood outside.
Three.
That couldn't be normal.
The attorney arrived an hour later.
His name was Malcolm Graves.
Seventy years old.
Sharp as a razor.
And visibly exhausted.
"What happened?"
Malcolm sat down.
Then slid a folder onto my bed.
"My grandfather's will?"
He nodded.
I opened it.
The first page seemed normal.
The second page too.
Then I reached the final section.
And nearly dropped the document.
"No."
Malcolm nodded.
"Yes."
I stared again.
My grandfather's entire estate.
Every company.
Every investment.
Every property.
Everything.
Estimated value:
Thirty-one billion dollars.
Left to a single person.
Me.
Not my uncle.
Not my cousins.
Not the board.
Me.
My pulse exploded.
"This has to be a mistake."
"It isn't."
I looked up.
"Why?"
Malcolm's expression changed.
Something darker.
Something worried.
"Because your grandfather knew someone in the family was stealing."
The room became silent.
Then Malcolm handed me another file.
Bank records.
Transfers.
Shell companies.
Secret accounts.
Billions missing.
I felt sick.
"Who?"
Malcolm looked directly into my eyes.
"Your uncle wasn't trying to kill you because of the inheritance."
My blood ran cold.
"Then why?"
May you like
Malcolm swallowed hard.
"Because you were about to discover what really happened to your parents."
