At my grandfather’s funeral, my cousins received his yacht, his penthouse, and his company worth 27 million dollars. I received a small, old envelope. Laughter broke out as I opened it. Inside there was only a plane ticket to Rome – INFO DESK

Even Harwick’s left eye twitched like it wanted to call him out.

Grandfather never discussed business outside the office. He never promised anyone anything. But for months, Vernon had been telling anyone who’d listen that he was taking over as CEO, that Preston would be his second–in–command, that the Whitmore name would continue exactly the way he imagined it.

“Let’s proceed, then,” Harwick said.

He opened the leather–bound folder with a soft crackle of paper.

“To my eldest son, Vernon Whitmore, and his wife, Beatrice,” he read, “I leave the estate in the Hamptons, and the investment portfolio contained in account ending in 471.”

Beatrice grabbed Vernon’s arm so fast her bracelet flashed.

“The Hamptons house,” she whispered. “Oh, Vernon. He did remember how much we loved it there.”

I watched Vernon’s throat work as he swallowed. His eyes were already calculating square footage, resale value, leverage.

“To my grandson, Preston Whitmore,” Harwick continued, “I leave Whitmore Shipping Industries and all its operational assets, with the condition that he maintains current employment levels for at least one year.”

Preston shot to his feet. His chair scraped across the floor with a sharp, ugly sound.

“I knew it,” he said, voice thick with victory. “Grandfather, I won’t let you down.”

He reached for his phone.

If I’d checked social media right then, I’m sure his LinkedIn would’ve already said “CEO, Whitmore Shipping Industries.”

“To my granddaughter, Mallerie Whitmore,” Harwick went on, “I leave the Manhattan penthouse on Central Park West and the yacht Serenity, currently moored in Newport.”

Mallerie made a sound only dogs and luxury–brand PR teams could fully hear.

“The penthouse?” she gasped. “Oh my God. Do you have any idea what that’s worth? And the yacht? My followers are going to die.”

Her phone was already in her hand, fingers flying.

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