Free The Inheritance by Zelda Reed Page A

throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Now that Miss Wheeler is back we can continue.”
    Neal’s eyes remain on my profile as I take my seat, pointedly avoiding his gaze.
    “One last thing,” Donald says. He takes another drink. “Mr. Wheeler leaves control of his business, J.M. Wheeler, to Mr. Neal Dietrich,” Donald looks at Neal, “an arrangement, I understand to be months in the making?”
    Neal nods. “Four months to be exact.”
    My head snaps in his direction. Neal raises an eyebrow as if to say, what’s the big deal?
    A wave of sickness brews in my stomach as my mother’s words loop in my head: never trust men like your father.

Ten
     
    Ashleigh’s the first to leave.
    The six of us gather in an awkward cluster in Donald’s foyer, Darlene periodically checking her phone, desperately seeking the right time to politely filter out. Gina nervously chews on her thumbnail as her eyes dart between Martin, Neal, and Donald, the three men conversing about my father’s wealth and legacy and how it’s all in good hands .
    The severity of it hasn’t hit me yet. The fact that hours ago I was a struggling – but content – teacher making thirty-five thousand a year. Despite my father bestowing upon me more money than I ever dreamed, I can’t shake that pesky envious feeling, biting at my ear lobe. He never paid for my tuition, what makes Ashleigh so fucking special?
    Darlene spits out a forced laugh, loud enough to disrupt their conversation. “I think I’m gonna head out,” she says. Then to Donald, “I’ll have my lawyers get in contact to finalize everything.”
    Gina drops her thumb from her mouth. “I’ll walk you out.”
    Without the two of them, I can’t stand to be in the same room as Neal, his eyes glossing over me after every few sentences, begging me to look at him, but I won’t. Liars are rarely worth a second glance. You can’t trust a word that comes out of their mouth and it’s exhausting, keeping up with the stories they spin.
    What stings more than him fucking me and leaving, is he lied about knowing my father, a man who attempts to redeem himself in death, but alive was someone I couldn’t stand. I can’t imagine the type of man Neal must really be for my father to trust him with his business.
    Silently, I follow Gina and Darlene out the front door. On the porch, Darlene turns to us, her smile tight and small.
    “Well, what do you know,” she says, throwing up her hands.
    “Yeah,” Gina says, thumb back in her mouth. “Makes you think, huh?”
    They were talking about my father, in their roundabout way, the resentment between them too thick for an actual conversation.
    Darlene nods. “It does.” Then to me, “I know I said it yesterday but again, I’m so sorry.”
    A part of me wants to scoff. Darlene was there when my father went weeks without speaking to me. She was the one shoving me out the house when he tired of my presence. She knows there’s nothing to be sorry about. With the money my father left me, he’s more useful to me dead.
    “Me too,” I say.
    “Well then,” Darlene says, turning around.
    Gina and I watch her walk to the end of the block, then turn left as she heads towards Broadway. In a few seconds she’ll hail down a cab, fingers tapping against her phone as she directs him to her hotel. She’ll spend a night out with her husband and son, paying for dinner as they bask in the knowledge that a large lump sum of money is coming and all she had to do was deal with my father for a few years.
    “I guess that’s my cue,” Gina mumbles the second Darlene disappears. She takes a step off the porch.
    “Wait,” I say. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
    Gina places her hands on her hips. “Yeah, you should be. What did I say about your father, huh?” She waits for an answer. I shrug. “ Jesus . That he loves – he loved - you. I know he never really showed it but,” she waves her hand, “that’s how most men are. They’re all cold and angry but