For three years, I lifted my paralyzed father, changed his clothes, fed him, and slept beside his bed. When he died at three in the morning, I was the only child there.
My brother arrived asking for the property deed. My sister arrived with perfect makeup and dry eyes. At the will reading, they fought over a city apartment and hundreds of thousands in cash while I sat forgotten in the corner.
They believed the youngest son who had sacrificed a thousand days would receive whatever scraps remained.
Then the attorney reached the final item.
My father had kept a record of every hour, every payment, and every act of care they never saw. The inheritance was not simply money. It was his final judgment on the children who came home only when there was something to divide.
They counted his assets. He counted who stayed.
Chapter 1
It rained the day Papa passed away. It wasn't a heavy downpour, just a light drizzle pattering against the windowpane. He left us at three in the morning, and I was right there beside him. I was the only one there.
My eldest brother, Arthur Montgomery, didn't answer the phone until my third call.
"Mmh... what?" His voice was muffled, thick with sleep.
"Pops is gone," I said.
Silence stretched over the line for a few seconds.
"Oh."
Another heavy pause followed.
"Well... you handle the arrangements for now. I'll rush back tomorrow."
He was in the Silicon Corridor. It was only a three-hour flight, yet he wouldn't arrive until the next day.
Beatrice Montgomery, my middle sister, picked up right away.
"Ah? Pops is gone?"
The crying started immediately—loud and seemingly heartbroken.
"I'll buy a ticket right now! Waaah—"
She was in Denver. Between booking the ticket and making the flight, it took her twenty-six hours to finally get home. When she arrived, her makeup was flawless, and her eyes weren't the least bit swollen.
I kept vigil alone that entire night. I changed Papa's clothes, gently washed his body, and contacted the funeral home. My tears flowed continuously, leaving my eyes swollen like walnuts by morning.
Arthur's wife arrived with him. Her first words upon walking through the door weren't about Pops.
"Where is the property deed?" she asked.
Catching the look I gave her, she let out a short, nervous laugh. "I just mean we need to get the documents ready for the funeral arrangements."
Three days after the funeral, the entire family gathered at Papa's old house. They weren't there to mourn; they were there because the attorney had scheduled the reading of the will.
Over a dozen people crowded into the living room. Arthur sat on the main sofa with his legs crossed, idly twirling his car keys. His wife sat beside him, her eyes darting around the space. I knew exactly what she was doing—she was appraising it.
The apartment was in the city center. It was old, shabby, and small, but its prime location meant it was worth at least three and a half million.
Beatrice sat on the opposite side, clutching a tissue and periodically dabbing the corners of her eyes. Despite the performance, her eyes were completely dry.
A few uncles and aunts had shown up as well. They sat on the side chairs, sipping tea and cracking salted peanuts, clearly just there for the spectacle.
I sat in the furthest chair in the corner. No one bothered to pour me any tea.
The attorney finally arrived. His name was Victor Vance, a bespectacled man in his forties with a deeply serious expression. As he walked in, he swept his gaze across the room. His eyes paused on me for a brief second before moving on.
"Hello everyone. I am Victor, the attorney appointed by the late Mr. Richard Montgomery." He opened his briefcase and retrieved a stack of documents. "Today, I will be reading Mr. Montgomery's will."
Arthur sat up straight. His wife's eyes lit up with anticipation, and Beatrice gripped her tissue a little tighter.
"Before we begin," the attorney paused, "please listen to the very end before making any decisions."
He placed a heavy emphasis on the words "the very end," but no one seemed to care.
"Mr. Vance, please begin," Arthur said, unable to wait a second longer.