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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2039653-The-Wrong-Inheritance
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Dark · #2039653
A Woman Inherits a mystery
“Your father only left you this piece of paper, Dear.” After everything Daddy and I had been through and all he left me was a piece of paper that made no sense? How in the world could this have happened? “It appears to be some sort of combination, so I guess technically he left you a mystery.”

I slumped in my chair and tried to figure out why Daddy would do this to me. Before he died, we had discussed his will and he had assured me that I would be well taken care of. Yet now I was told that he left me with nothing more than a piece of paper? “This doesn’t sound right. I think I need to contact my attorney and have it looked into.”

“It is your legal right, however I do have to warn you that there are codicils in the will that makes it clear that if someone contests this will, they get nothing. It’s better to take what you have and walk away.” I snatched the piece of paper out of his hand and stormed away. As if on cue, my phone buzzed with a text.

“Find the locker, find what you seek.” All I wanted to do was scream but I knew that would do me no good. Right now I had to find a locker in New York City, and pray that this combination worked on it. In my head I quickly discarded any schools, as much as I loved my father there was no way he could pass for a school child nor did I think for a second that officials would allow him to use their facilities for nefarious reasons.

Out of nowhere it dawned on me; The Port Authority. As I began my walk, I sensed someone following me. A quick glance behind me, and I saw a man with a trench coat. Had Daddy intentionally just sent me into a mob war? Now that he was dead, his territory would be up for grabs, and the best way to get it would be to eliminate me. My purse slipped down my shoulder, I opened it up and was relieved that I had brought my gun. Most daddies teach their little girls not to talk to strangers, mine taught me to shoot first and ask questions later.

Something told me to pick up the pace, as I did I also looked behind me and Mr. Trench Coat was right on my tail. I ducked into a group of people, and then saw my destination. Briefly I wondered how to get in there without being followed, almost as if by design my group headed towards the building. Now that I was in, I had to find the locker area.

“Jordan, dear what are you doing here?” It was my mother. Something felt even more off about the whole situation. How had my Mother gotten here before me? And why was she here? There was no way that it was a coincidence. “Are you trying to run away because your Father left you nothing? That’s not how I raised you.”

“You didn’t raise me! You always left me with nannies,” I had to get control of my temper before I lost total control of the situation. After I closed my eyes, I silently counted to 10. “What are you doing here, Mother? Don’t you have Daddy’s money to be spending?”

“You are such an ungrateful brat, I should have aborted you when I had the chance.” Mother’s voice turned even colder than it already was naturally. From the corner of my eye, I saw a cop walking towards us. Mother had pulled a gun out of her pocket and had it pointed at me. “Now I can fix that mistake. I only your Father had allowed me to send you to boarding school, like I had wanted. Then none of this would have had to happen.”

“She has a gun!” I maneuvered myself into a head butt position and ran at Mother, catching her in the stomach. Her gun was fired, sending a bullet into the air. With all of the chaos that had started to ensue, I slipped away before anyone could see me. At the very least Mother would not be a bother to me and if I was really lucky Trench Coat was gone too.

Even as I after I had gone downstairs, the yelling and screaming stayed at the same level. For a brief moment, I worried that someone had been hit with the bullet. If they had been, I would make sure that their medical bills were taken care of. It was the least I could do for the victim of my psycho Mother. “Well, well, well girlie. Look at this, you have found a way to finally get one step closer to the family fortune.”

The man who was speaking to me, was standing in front of a row of lockers. He was shirt with a crown of hair around his head and bald on top. He reminded me of a bowling ball come to life. “Who exactly are you?”

“I’m the one you want to see. Show me the paper that you were given by the attorney.” Reluctantly I handed him the piece of paper and he smiled at it. “Your Father knew that your Mother would try something like this. That’s why he drained all of the bank accounts before she killed him and opened up new ones in your name. It’s too long of a story to tell right now but your Mother was having an affair with the attorney and promised him a lot of money. Your Father died a broke man, so that he could keep his promise to you.”

The man opened the locker and showed me all of the paperwork in there, Daddy had given me everything as promised. He even signed over all of his stocks to me. He had kept his promise.


© Copyright 2015 Author Ed Anderson (spaz11081 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2039653-The-Wrong-Inheritance