My grip on the will tightened until my knuckles went white. Cold sweat dripped onto the paper, blurring the characters of my own name—Simon Abbott, heir—until they were barely legible.
Uncle Harvey never married. Never had children. When my parents died in that accident—I was only two—he took me in and raised me as his own.
I grew up at his side. He enrolled me in the most prestigious schools. Gave me every advantage money could buy. Before I'd even finished university, he brought me into the company, teaching me everything he knew about running an empire.
He'd defied his own brother to name me his sole heir. Victor Dickerson had fought him tooth and nail, but Uncle Harvey hadn't budged. Not a single cent went to his own nephew by blood.
It had torn the family apart.
A man who loved me that fiercely would never give his fortune to someone I'd never even met.
Something was wrong. Deeply, terribly wrong.
I forced myself to calm down. Turned to the attorney.
"I want to see the video. The one from when the will was signed."