Chapter 3: Inheritance

Surely I hadn't heard him correctly.

"I'm sorry. It sounded like you said I inherited nine-hundred thirty billion dollars."

"That's correct," Karl said as he pushed a binder across his desk. "This is a summary of his entire estate. In there, you'll find a collection of assets categorized by genre and in alphabetical order."

I opened the binder and began pouring through it, still in shock over what I'd just heard. They had to have the wrong person.

Karl continued as I flipped through page after page, "You'll find holding companies, financial services, realestate, investments, art -"

I just so happened to be on a page entitled art and stopped my perusing to look up at Karl, "Saint Paul Preaching in Athens? As in one of the seven Raphaels?"

"Yes," one of the three women at the table interjected. "You'll see that your grandfather's collection was quite extensive. He has several pieces on loan to museums all over the world."

I tore my eyes away from the collection of assets in front of me to assess the woman. She was sitting across the desk from me and wearing a small, amused smile. She was gorgeous, with long, blonde hair teased into luxurious waves that framed a perfect face. She had fair skin, ice-blue eyes, and makeup that looked professionally done. My throat contracted every time I looked at her. If you looked long enough, you could see a few fine lines around her eyes that betrayed her age - possibly late 30s or early 40's. Those faint signs of aging subtly enhanced her lovely features, giving off an impression of experience and sophistication that - far from detracting from her beauty - punctuated it.

And I stared at her more than long enough to make that determination.

One corner of her mouth teased into a half-smile, breaking the momentary spell she'd cast on me as I realized I'd been staring at her an inappropriate amount of time. I tore my gaze away from her perfect face to look at Karl again.

"Are you sure you have the right guy?"

This had to be a mistake. There was no way I could be the inheritor of so much wealth. Was I being tricked? Was someone playing a prank? This couldn't be real.

"Oh, we are most certainly sure we have the correct person," said William Price, one of the partners of the firm who had met me downstairs. "We wouldn't have come to you if there was any chance of being wrong. Can you imagine the lawsuit?" he asked with a chuckle at the absurdity of making such a mistake.

"Mr. Gerrard laid out all the evidence and its appropriate documentation," Karl confirmed. "We even took the time to verify the information after his passing. There's no doubt you're his grandson and his will made it completely clear that you were to be the sole inheritor of his entire estate. It includes everything. The money. The houses. The majority shares of his companies."

"Of his companies?" I repeated. Did I own companies now? That was alarming... I didn't know the first thing about business on the kind of scale that billionaires dealt with. Would I crash, burn, and go broke like the people you heard about who won the lottery?

"You don't have to worry about that," Karl continued. He could obviously sense what I was thinking, "They are fully staffed and completely self-sufficient. You don't have to worry about steering that ship."

I got up from the seat and started pacing. I breathed deeply - in and out - while running my hands through my hair. I looked out the window and took in the city skyline from the heights of the building I was in, then looked around the room at all the lawyers staring at me. There were twelve or thirteen people in here... all watching me as I tried to process life-changing information that threatened to leave me in shock. Half of them looked amused. One of the other women near the end of the table who looked to be in her early 20s smirked at me as I locked eyes with her.

I'd always dreamed about winning the lottery and had a plan laid out for what I was going to do, but actually winning it? What was I supposed to do? Just quit my job? Do I cash everything out and take the money? What about taxes? What about fees? What would my friends and family say? Do I tell them? What about the unforeseen responsibilities my grandfather had that I wasn't aware of? Was my grandfather really worth that much money? How? Was it legal? Did he find a secret cache of Nazi gold? How much of heaven and earth had he moved to gain that sort of wealth, and what sort of repercussions would I be facing if I took that money?

Wait... I wasn't considering not taking the money, right? I'd be a fool not to.

"I know this is a lot. Please take your time," Karl said.

"He seriously didn't have any family?"

"No," William said, "He has family, but he didn't leave them with anything."

I balked at that. "What? Why?"

"It's complicated. Mr. Gerrard was a hard and very prideful man. Of course, his family pushed back on the will, but we've already taken care of that. The ruling has already been made. The will is being honored."

"Can I meet them?"

"If you want," Karl said and threw a glance at William that looked uneasy. "Could everyone give us the room? We'll call you back if we need anything else, but it's clear Mr. Upton is going to need some time to process this. Thank you."

Everyone began to clear off their stuff efficiently and leave. The only ones to remain in their seats were Karl, William, the other man who met me downstairs - who I assumed was Roger VanCamp, and the beautiful blonde from earlier. The younger woman caught my eye as she was slipping her bag on her shoulder and she gave me a tight-lipped, but warm smile and I could feel myself giving her one in return. It was clear that my libido was still working despite the shock of the situation.

Soon as the five of us were alone and the door was shut, Karl continued, "Look, Mr. Upton. Our firm has worked for the Gerrard family for decades. In fact, I'd say half our firm is dedicated solely to the Gerrards, wouldn't you say?" The rest of the room nodded in response.

"So you can be confident when I say that all of us here in this room feel that you having any sort of contact with the rest of the Gerrard family would be inadvisable."

"Why?"

"They're..." Karl seemed to struggle with being tactful in his response. I guess this was my family despite having never met them, after all.

"Narcissistic and completely lacking in empathy?" The blonde woman interjected.

Karl gave her a sour look, "Helen's out of line, but she isn't wrong."

"Helen?" I asked, looking at the blonde.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Karl said, "This is Helen VanCamp. She's one of our chief legal officers dedicated to the Gerrard account. We're all available to you, but she's one of the most knowledgeable."

VanCamp... I glanced down at her hands and noticed the elegant wedding ring on her left hand, then over at Roger. The man looked to be in his early to mid sixties with a chiseled jaw, salt and peppered hair, and a straight Roman nose set between eyes that felt very perceptive, as if he were cataloging everything happening in his mind palace in case he needed it later. With genes like his and a wife like Helen, this guy had seriously won at life.

Apparently, so had I.

But something didn't sit right with me. The way Karl seemed hesitant to be straightforward with me or the way I felt Roger VanCamp sizing me up. The whole thing with the family and the fact that I'd been ambushed with this unimaginable stroke of good luck... this all felt too good to be true, and I felt like another shoe was going to drop at any moment.

Still... it wasn't like I was going to walk away from this kind of money because I had questions. Apparently it was my money after all.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. VanCamp."

Mrs. VanCamp gave me a smile, "Please, Mr. Upton. Call me Helen."

"Only if you call me Marcus," I said. Then I turned to look at Karl, "Okay. What do I need to do?"

Karl beamed, "Just sign these contracts and we will handle the rest."

He pushed a folder in front of me with a considerable collection of papers inside it. The top sheet showed the beginning of paragraph after paragraph of small print. I flipped through the first few pages to see that it didn't end. Karl pushed one of the most expensive pens I'd ever seen in my life in front of me.

I'd never had much. And in the space of an hour I'd found out that I'd inherited nearly a trillion dollars and was being rushed into signing a bunch of papers without knowing what they were saying. I glanced back up at William and could see him nearly salivating. Roger had a hell of a poker face. Helen simply looked at me with a secret, knowing smile - a predatory look that made me feel one part turned on and one part small rodent.

"So if I don't sign these, I don't get the money?"

Karl looked a little confused, "No... this is just giving us the authority to operate as your legal and financial representation. The money is yours regardless."

I guess that made sense. If it was mine, the lawyers couldn't just keep it from me. But then other questions started to formulate - how was I going to manage something like this without them? Surely I wasn't able to do this myself. There were too many complications for me to just ignore the value of having professional experts, but maybe there was value in getting a fresh pair of eyes to look things over without the benefit of having decades of experience with my grandfather's estate? Half of my department was sure our supervisor was embezzling funds, but she was so familiar with the inner workings of our company and clients that it was hard to prove without some solid proof. Could I be opening myself up to something like this here? I needed time to think.

I shut the folder and looked back at Karl, "Can I have some time to look this over before signing? I just need to make sure this is all legit. You know? Maybe I'll get a second opinion."

Karl's smile tightened, "Of course. Take it home and look it over. Take all the time you need, but I'd caution you to not take too long. It's only a matter of time till very powerful people hear that Colin Gerrard has died and start asking questions. I would also caution you not to disclose this information to anyone. Do you have any idea how many people would target you if they knew this information?"

Well that wasn't alarming at all. I did my best to keep my panic tamped down.

"That makes sense," I said as I stood up and collected the binder and the folder. I tried to hide the feeling that I was a deer in the headlights as I reached out to shake everyone's hands. All the men had tough, businesslike grips. Helen's was a different matter - firm but gentle. And as I shook hers, I could have sworn I felt her thumb rub gently over the back of my hand.

I looked back to William and Karl, "Do you guys mind if I get a ride back to my apartment?"

Friday, 8:23 pm

I sat in my tiny apartment and stared at the ceiling, my fingers lazily trailing along the spine of the cat purring contentedly in my lap. Lightning flickered outside, briefly illuminating the sad state of my quarters before it faded into low-light obscurity once more. The roaring that always accompanied it followed a few seconds later. The irregularity of the assault of lightning and thunder contrasted with the pitter-patter of the rain beating against my window, which was steady and unrelenting. I barely noticed it as I took a sip of the slightly cool beer I'd nursed for the past two and a half hours as I contemplated the possibilities that had been presented before me.

So. Much. Money.

I'd wanted to sign and just start spending immediately. Who wouldn't have? But my lawyers seemed about as altruistic as a panther at a puppy parade, and I was the puppy. I didn't have a clue what I was signing, and I didn't want to obligate myself to people I knew nothing about.

But I had no idea who to trust to look over all this. I didn't know any lawyers. I could have found one, but how did lawyer/client privilege factor in when hundreds of billions were on the line? I had access to well beyond fuck-you money, but I'd seen enough movies and television to know that I could easily get caught up in currents that could suck me under the surface and drown me.

My family would be of limited help. Neither of my parents were incredibly financially responsible. My youngest brother, Richie, was 19, and all 19 year-olds were notoriously stupid. Jacob was only three years younger than me, but he was a lazy piece of shit who couldn't keep a job longer than 6 months. The few close friends I had were administrative assistants, baristas, and improv coaches. They support me emotionally, but they couldn't exactly help me navigate something like this. And what if dollar signs changed how they felt about our friendship?

A knock on the door pulled me from my deep thoughts. I checked my phone to see that it was 8:30 at night on a Friday. Who the hell could that be? Jack jumped off my lap as I sat my beer down and pulled myself out of my chair.

I approached the door, weaving my way around my belongings scattered across the floor. Jessica had indeed departed, but she hadn't left the apartment in the normally pristine condition I kept it in. Nothing was broken, but things had been thrown around the apartment unnecessarily, a sign she hadn't been happy with me when she left.

"Who is it?" I called through the door once I'd reached it.

The volume of the voice was low - inappropriate for someone talking through a door. Almost as if they wanted to prevent drawing attention to themself. "It's Helen VanCamp."

That completely shocked me. The last person I expected to be at my door at 8:30 on a Friday night was the wife of one of the partners of one of the richest law firms in New York. I glanced around the room in horror of the mess I'd let sit around since I got back. Clothes were on the floor, one of my dresser drawers had been completely removed and left upside down next to it. There were a few empty take-out containers on the kitchen counter. Horrified, I backed away from the door.

"Uh... just a minute!" I shouted as I began racing around the small apartment, throwing clothes and clutter into small piles in an attempt to minimize the chaos. I shoved the dresser drawer back in its hole and dumped as much in it before shutting it completely. I tossed the trash on the kitchen counters into the actual wastebasket and gave them a half-hearted wipedown with an old dish rag before tossing that into the sink. The entire affair took less than a minute and a half.

Then I opened the door to see one of the most gorgeous women I'd ever beheld staring back at me with that mysterious little smile on her face.. Her raincoat was soaked and she carried a dripping umbrella in one hand. She looked me up and down with that same half-amused smile on her face, "Evening, Mr. Upton. Doing a little last-minute cleanup before you move out of your apartment?"

Busted.

"Um... something like that," I said. I glanced up and down the hall, but no one else was present. When she didn't immediately respond, I continued, "Can I help you?"

Her smile grew a little wider, like she was genuinely amused, "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Oh!" I exclaimed, "Yes! Please!"

Stepping aside, I ushered Mrs. VanCamp inside my apartment and shut the door behind her. She was already shucking off her coat, and I couldn't help but notice she'd changed from the power suit she'd been wearing earlier to a slinky black dress that left her shoulders bare. The back of the dress plunged, exposing an expanse of soft, supple skin. She looked around the room as she held out her coat and gave me a good look at the front of her dress, which plunged delightfully between her breasts, showing a generous amount of cleavage. I reached for it and immediately draped it over the second-hand couch we stood beside.

"Apologies for the mess. I recently lost my roommate."

"Hardly a mess, Mr. Upton," Mrs. VanCamp said as she looked from the rest of the room to me. "There's not much here at all."

"Yeah. My roommate had most of the furniture."

"Well, I'd say that's good timing on our part," she said with a little laugh. "Less to move to a new place."

I wasn't really in the mood to joke about my current predicament. Especially with someone in my house that I hadn't been expecting and had no idea why she was here..

"Why are you here, Mrs. VanCamp."

She stared at me for a long moment, her amusement dropping slightly. "Like I said earlier, Helen, please."

"Helen," I tried it out without saying anything else. The moments stretched on and grew increasingly uncomfortable. After a few moments, she looked back around my apartment, taking a few steps toward the center. It looked like I would have to drive this conversation.

"Why are you here?" I repeated.

"Mr. VanCamp sent me to talk to you. He thought that you might feel more comfortable in a less... formal setting. Something a bit more familiar and intimate."

She circled the couch and sat down, all grace and poise while making me feel like I didn't belong in my own house. A generous amount of leg flashed into view as she crossed them. I circled the other side of the couch and sat, leaving plenty of space between us while trying my best to portray a level of control over the situation.

"Did you get a second opinion yet?" I got the impression of a cat toying with a mouse. If this was her attempt to disarm me, it wasn't working at all.

"Not yet." I replied, glancing at the table where the binder lay open displaying some of the possessions that were about to become mine. That particular page happened to mention an island.

"What's your hesitation?" She asked, as she adjusted herself on the couch. The space between us disappeared a fraction. "All you need to do is sign the document and you can immediately enjoy your newfound wealth without having to worry about it. You do realize you're the wealthiest man in the world by a large margin, don't you?"

"Yea," I cut her off before she could continue. "I just need time to process this, and figure out what's best for me. No offense to any of you guys, but I don't know you. I don't have a relationship with any of you. I'm sure you were great to my grandfather, but I also bet he was an actual businessman who knew what he was doing. I don't get that luxury. I've managed financials for a while now, and I have some connections at work that might be able to advise me on what to do. And maybe they'll have some great things to say about your firm, but analyzing years of data to see how you guys were doing will take too much time. And if I can't trust the family enough to ask them questions, I'm kind of stuck. What makes me think I can trust you guys to do what's best for me?"

"What do you mean?" she cocked her head to the side and watched me with an unreadable gaze.

"How do I know you guys have my best interest in mind? You worked for my grandpa. Not me. It's not like I'd never heard of Colin Gerrard before. He was a billionaire who controlled a media empire and owned majority shares in one of the largest holding companies in the world. I've heard the stories - he was a bastard. It makes sense to me that he'd hire bastards who would feast on me like a bunch of hyenas."

The room fell silent as we studied each other. Finally, she spoke up, "It's a valid concern. I would have the same. So... do you intend on hiring someone else? I can promise you that no one understands your grandfather's estate better than my firm." She adjusted herself on the couch so that her legs were tucked under her, more distance subtly disappearing between us. "Your concern about us mismanaging your estate for selfish gain should keep in mind that any other firm would likely mismanage your estate due to lack of experience." Another smile, "Besides... all lawyers are bastards."