He threw me out on the street after inheriting 75 million, believing I was a burden. But when the lawyer read the final clause, his triumphant smile turned into a face of panic.

I arrived at the law firm in my best outfit, the only thing I still had that didn’t smell like humiliation. Curtis was already there—sitting at the head of the mahogany table, surrounded by financial advisors who looked like sharks smelling blood.

He looked at me with disgust when I walked in.

“Sit in the back, Vanessa,” he ordered. “And don’t speak.”

Mr. Sterling came in carrying a thick leather folder. He sat down, adjusted his glasses, and looked at all of us. His gaze lingered on me for a second longer than necessary—unreadable—before turning to Curtis.

—We will now proceed with the reading of Mr. Arthur’s last will and testament—announced Sterling.

Curtis drummed his fingers on the table.

—Let’s get to the point, Sterling. Let’s talk about liquid assets and properties. I’ve got a trip to Monaco on Friday and I need cash.

The lawyer read the legal preambles. Curtis sighed impatiently. Finally, Sterling reached the division of assets.

—“To my only son, Curtis, I bequeath the ownership of the family mansion, the collection of cars, and the sum of seventy-five million dollars…”

Curtis slammed his fist on the table and stood up, triumphant.