I spent the rest of the day in a daze. Even after everything, after a lifetime of favoritism, neglect, and outright dismissal, part of me had still believed they would at least be fair. Not generous, not kind, just fair. And yet, they had made it clear: I was nothing to them.

That night, as I sat in my dimly lit kitchen nursing a drink I didn’t even want, my phone rang. An unknown number. I hesitated, then answered.

“Samuel Sterling?”

“Yeah, this is.”

“This is Robert Sinclair. I was your grandfather’s attorney. We need to meet. There’s something you need to see.”

I frowned. “My grandfather passed away six months ago.”