Two days later, I stood in a conference room fifty floors above downtown Chicago, staring at my new reality. The glass walls overlooked the skyline, the lake glimmering in the distance. I felt small, like an intruder in someone else’s life.
David Lin, the attorney who had called me, sat across from me with a file thick enough to crush a dream. “Before we go further,” he said, “you need to understand your uncle’s condition.”
I braced myself.
He adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Whitmore’s will states that you must assume the role of acting CEO for a minimum of one year. You cannot sell, transfer, or delegate your shares during that period. Only after completing twelve months in the position—without scandal or bankruptcy—will the inheritance be fully yours.”
I stared at him. “I’m not… a businessperson. I teach art at a community center.”
“Your uncle knew that,” David replied. “He believed your perspective—untainted by greed or corporate politics—might be exactly what the company needs.”
I laughed bitterly. “Or he wanted to watch me fail from the grave.”
David smiled faintly. “He also left a note. Would you like to read it?”