Free The Inheritance by Zelda Reed

introducing themselves?”
    We go around the table, spitting out our names. The man I don’t know is Fabian Moretti.
    Donald glances at the paper in front of him. “You’re all mostly accounted for, so let’s get started.”
    Fabian receives a sizeable chunk of change for his “charity”, money that Martin will wire him by Wednesday. After Martin nods in acknowledgment, Fabian stands and leaves. Martin receives my father’s car, a vintage Aston Martin that remains in perfect condition, in a garage in Evanston. Darlene and Gina and my mother (I try not to look shocked) receive a sizeable chunk of money, not enough to live off of, but enough to send Gina into a small fit of tears, her fingers wiping at her cheeks before she makes prayer-like hands and says, “Thank you, god.” Ashleigh receives a three-year scholarship to DePaul, on the condition that she remains a Biology major and doesn’t transfer to “something useless”.
    “And you, Miss Wheeler,” Donald says, running his finger down the list. “Will receive the remaining funds in your father’s combined accounts. A total of two-point-seven million dollars.” The women in the room turn to glare at me. Her ? The girl who couldn’t love him less? “You will also receive Mr. Wheeler’s Gold Club membership card, giving you access to the most exclusive society in Chicago, and ownership of Mr. Wheeler’s condominium and half his stock portfolio, with mentorship by Mr. Simmons.”
    Martin nods. “You can pick up the keys at the office on Monday.”
    My hands, lazily resting in my lap, begin to tremble under the sharp gaze of the women around me. Darlene’s burning a hole in the side of my face as Gina and Ashleigh, across from me, bite their bottom lips to keep from lashing out. I don’t have to read their minds to know what they’re thinking. He left all of that to that ungrateful little bitch? The girl who ran around for years, telling anyone who would listen that I hated him; the girl who had to be dragged to his funeral; the girl who left his repass early to fuck a complete stranger who didn’t even stay to say goodbye.
    “Do you…do you have a bathroom?” I ask Donald.
    He nods. “Upstairs and to your right.”
    It takes all of me to remain composed, exiting the dining room. Through the floorboards of the second floor I can hear Donald’s wife in the kitchen, singingly softly along with the radio, pots and pans clamoring in the sink. I close the bathroom door behind me, sliding the lock into place before I lower the lid on the toilet and take a seat.
    It all comes rushing out of me: an uncontrollable sob that starts out like a pitter-patter of rain but monsoons into a full blown attack. The palms of my hands press into my eyes, trying to keep the tears from ruining my make-up but it’s no use. Black eyeliner stains my hands as it runs down my cheeks, my mouth twisting open as my shoulders shake.
    My sanity, my rock-hard understanding of my father is shattered. In a handful of seconds he’s transformed from the heartless, cold man I always knew him to be, to complex and misunderstood. A man who knew nothing about having a daughter, but loved me enough to leave me almost his whole life.
    I don’t know how long I’m in there but a knock on the door drags me out. It’s Donald’s wife, “Just seeing if you’re alright.”
    I can’t fix my make-up, so I clean it all off. Bare-faced, I head back to the dining room where the sound of a new voice pushes my shoulders back and tightens my jaw.
    He wouldn’t .
    Rounding the corner, I spot him. Neal . Lounging in the dining room chair on the other side of Martin. The two converse quietly, the women sitting restlessly around the table, Ashleigh’s cheeks stained with new tears, Darlene on her phone, Gina’s eyes darting between Donald and Neal.
    I carefully step into the room. Neal meets my eyes. The corner of his mouth quirks into a grin. Instinctively, my eyes narrow.
    “Ah,” Donald says,