Chapter 5 - Eighteen Point Seven Million Reasons
Two weeks later, my attorney called.
“Your father contacted my office.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why?”
“He asked whether the settlement had been placed in a trust.”
“You told him nothing?”
“Of course.”
David paused.
“He also suggested that your grief might impair your ability to manage the funds.”
I stood slowly.
“He said what?”
“He implied the family might need to intervene.”
I felt something cold settle over me.
“Can they?”
“No. You are legally competent, the settlement is yours, and the foundation has independent governance.”
“Good.”
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Document everything.”
So I did.
Every message.
Every voicemail.
Every sudden request.
One cousin wanted an investment for a restaurant.
An uncle needed help paying debts.
Mom wanted to discuss a “family property.”
Then Melissa called.
I almost ignored it.
Almost.
“Hello?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Dad is planning a family meeting.”
I laughed softly.
“Without me?”
“With you. He thinks if enough relatives are there, you’ll agree to create some kind of family trust.”
“For my money?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you telling me?”
Silence.
“Because this is disgusting.”
I sat down.
Melissa continued.
“I know you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t.”
“You shouldn’t.”
That stopped me.
She took a breath.
“I spent my whole life believing Mom and Dad favored me because I deserved it.”
I said nothing.
“They made you the difficult daughter and me the good daughter. And I liked it.”
“Melissa—”
“I’m not asking you to make me feel better.”
Her voice trembled.
“I just need you to know I finally see it.”
Three days later, Dad arrived at my foundation’s temporary office.
He wasn’t alone.
Mom, two uncles, and a cousin followed him.
David was already there.
Dad frowned.
“Why is your attorney here?”
“Why are my relatives here?”
He closed the conference-room door.
“We need to discuss your future.”
“No. You need to discuss my money.”
“Claire.”
“Say it.”
Mom reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
Dad placed a folder on the table.
“A family trust protects everyone.”
I didn’t touch it.
“Everyone?”
“You have no children now.”
The room went completely still.
David’s head snapped toward him.
My father realized what he had said.
Too late.
I stood.
“Get out.”
“Claire, that came out wrong.”
“You have no idea what you just said.”
“I meant you don’t have immediate heirs.”
“My children have names.”
Mom started crying.
“Please.”
I pointed toward the door.
“Leave.”
Dad’s frustration finally broke through.
“Ethan is gone! The children are gone! You cannot spend the rest of your life building monuments to dead people!”
I stared at him.
Then the conference-room door opened.
Melissa stood there.
She had heard everything.
Dad looked stunned.
“What are you doing here?”
“Ending this.”
She walked inside and picked up the folder.
Then she tore it in half.
Dad shouted, “Melissa!”
She tore it again.
“You skipped three funerals for my birthday.”
“Don’t start.”
“And now you’re trying to take her settlement?”
“This is family business.”
Melissa threw the pieces onto the table.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“This is why she doesn’t have a family.”
Dad pointed at her.
“You’re choosing her over us?”
Melissa shook her head.
“No.”
She stepped beside me.
“I’m finally choosing what’s right.”
Dad stormed out.
Mom followed.
The others went with them.
Melissa remained.
Neither of us spoke for a long time.
Then she whispered, “I’m sorry about Lily.”
I looked at her.
“And Noah.”
Her eyes filled.
May you like
“And Ethan.”
This time, she knew all three names mattered.
