The Story of How a Lawyer Revealed the True Will of a Millionaire Father
Is this Amelia Carter? Yes, I said cautiously. This is Mr. Daniels, your father’s personal assistant. I’m calling to inform you, your father has been admitted to the hospital.
It’s serious. My heart stopped. He gave no more details, only the name of the hospital in Portland.
My hands shook as I locked up the cafe and bought the first ticket I could find. It had been thirteen years since I’d walked through the doors of my father’s house, and I had no idea what I was walking into. The hospital smelled like antiseptic and burnt coffee.
My boots clicked against the polished floor as I made my way to the room number Mr. Daniels had given me. I expected to see my father first. Instead, the doorway was blocked by Vanessa.
She hadn’t changed much, still impeccably dressed, still wearing a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. Her hair was swept into a sleek bun, a silk scarf knotted neatly around her neck. What are you doing here, Amelia? She asked, her voice low but edged with disdain.
I’m here to see my father, I said. Her gaze swept over me, pausing on my thrift store coat and scuffed boots. He’s resting.
You don’t need to be here. I stepped past her without asking permission. My father was lying in the hospital bed, his skin pale, his frame shrunken.
Tubes and wires surrounded him, the soft beep of the monitor marking each fragile heartbeat, but when he saw me his eyes lit up. Amelia, he rasped, his voice weaker than I’d ever heard it. I sat down beside him, taking his hand.
His fingers felt cold, but his grip still carried a trace of strength. For a moment, neither of us spoke. I’ve missed you, I finally said.
He closed his eyes briefly, like the words hurt and healed at the same time. I’ve missed you too. I should have called more.
I should have. He stopped, his voice breaking. It doesn’t matter now, I whispered, though deep down I knew it did.
Vanessa lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, impatient. I ignored her. My father took a shaky breath.
Amelia, I don’t know how much time I have. I can’t change the past, but I can make sure you’re taken care of. I’ve made arrangements.
You’ll understand when the time comes. What arrangements? I asked, but he only shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Trust me, he said simply.
The nurse came in, checking his IV, and Vanessa swept into the room, clucking about how he needed rest. She ordered me to leave, but I stayed until the nurse gently suggested it was best to let him sleep. Back in the hallway, Vanessa leaned in close.
Don’t think showing up now makes you part of this family again, she hissed. When the will is read, you’ll see exactly where you stand. I didn’t respond.
Part of me wanted to lash out, to tell her I didn’t care about the will or the money. But another part of me, a quieter, more patient part, decided to wait. Two weeks later, my father passed away.
The call came early in the morning, from a number I didn’t recognize. It was Vanessa. Richard’s gone, she said flatly.
The funeral is Saturday. You can come if you stay out of the way. Her tone was ice, but I agreed.
Not for her. For him. And for the unanswered question that had taken root in my chest.
What arrangements had he made? The funeral was held on a gray Saturday morning, the kind where the clouds hung low enough to feel like they might brush your shoulders. The Carter family plot sat on a quiet hill overlooking Portland, lined with tall cedars that swayed in the wind. I stood at the back, away from the cluster of black-clad mourners surrounding the casket…
