Not for food.
For himself.
Richard continued.
“And that’s why your grandfather included another clause.”
I looked at him.
“What clause?”
Richard slid a final sheet toward me.
“This one.”
I read it.
Then I read it again.
My father’s name appeared in the middle of the page.
Underneath it was a sentence that made my blood run cold.
If Daniel Brooks has knowingly concealed this inheritance from Nathan Brooks, interfered with correspondence, or misappropriated Nathan’s personal funds, he shall receive nothing from the Brooks estate and shall be subject to legal action.
I looked up slowly.
“So my father loses everything?”
“If the evidence holds, yes.”
I couldn’t speak.
Richard leaned closer.
“And there is more.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course there is.”
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out
a small black flash drive.
“Your grandfather left this for you.”
“What is it?”
“A recording.”
“Of what?”
Richard’s expression became serious.
“Your father.”
My heart stopped.
“When was it recorded?”
“Two months ago.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Your grandfather knew he was dying.”
I stared at the flash drive.
“What did he record?”
Richard didn’t answer.
Instead, he handed me his phone.
A video was already open.
I pressed play.
The screen showed a conference room.
My father sat at a long table.
Across from him was an older man I recognized immediately.
James Brooks.
My grandfather.
Alive.
Healthy.
Angry.
My father leaned forward.
“You’re making a mistake.”
My grandfather shook his head.
“No, Daniel. The mistake was trusting you.”
“You can’t leave everything to that boy.”
“He is my grandson.”
“He doesn’t know anything about business.”
“He doesn’t need to.”
My father slammed his fist onto the table.
“He’s weak.”
My grandfather smiled sadly.
“No. He’s unspoiled.”
My father’s face darkened.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
My grandfather leaned forward.
“And when I die, Nathan will receive everything.”
My father’s expression changed.
“Then I’ll make sure he never knows.”
The video stopped.
I couldn’t breathe.
Richard took the phone from my hand.
“That conversation was recorded six weeks before your father threw you out.”
I stared at the ground.
My father had known.
He had known the entire time.
He knew my grandfather was alive.
He knew about the inheritance.
He knew letters had been sent.
