"Just go, you big baby," Irene teased, straightening his tie as she did. "And maybe don’t open with your usual charm this time. Try humility and soft spoken voice."

"Fine. You gonna be my bitch tonight anyway."

Irene winked at him and urged him out.

*****

The entire Kane family sat around the long conference table, joined by a handful of close Orchard family members, all dressed in solemn shades of black and navy. It was time for Grandpa George Orchard’s will to be read.

Winn sat between Sylvia and his mother, his navy jacket draped over the back of his chair. Sylvia’s fingers were wrapped around his—soft, trembling slightly, grounding him as much as they sought comfort.

Across from them, Tom lounged in his seat beside Anna, the faint smirk on his face betraying his eagerness for the spectacle that was about to unfold.

Maurice Heathcliffe, the family lawyer, adjusted his reading glasses and cleared his throat. "I have been able to confirm the authenticity of Mr. Winn Kane’s marriage certificate," he said. "And I would like to offer my congratulations."

Sylvia squeezed Winn’s hand tighter. Winn inclined his head in acknowledgment but said nothing. The congratulatory words hung in the air, hollow and ironic. Congratulations for marrying a woman you don’t love. Congratulations for selling your soul to save a legacy. Ivy’s ring around his neck suddenly felt heavy.

Maurice continued. "As you know, the reading of this will has been delayed for over a year, as we have been waiting for Mr. Kane’s marital status to change." He looked up, pausing just long enough to let the implication sink in.

Maurice placed his hands on two thick envelopes that sat on the polished desk before him. "Now," he said, "there are two parts to the will. The first, a written document—signed by Mr. George Orchard himself and sealed with this firm’s official seal."

He tapped the envelope. "And the second, a follow-up video recording made by the late Mr. Orchard."

"Let the record show," Maurice continued, "that at the time these were made, Mr. George Orchard was of sound body and mind, and was under no duress or pressure."

"The two parts of the will," Maurice went on, "were stored separately as requested by the deceased. The written document was locked in the Orchard family vault, while the video recording was delivered to my personal custody for safekeeping."

Maurice looked up, meeting the eyes of everyone present. "If there are no objections," he said, "we’ll begin with the written document."

Tom looked toward Raphael.

Maurice adjusted his tie, clearing his throat before picking up the letter opener.

Maurice unfolded the thick paper and began to read. "To my beloved daughter, Anna, and my grandchildren, Winn and Sylvia," he began. "I leave you my blessings and my gratitude. You were my light, my blood."

Anna’s hand flew to her lips, her eyes glassy. Winn felt the sting in his chest.

Maurice continued. "To Thomas Kane—" He paused, glancing up briefly as if to brace himself. Tom straightened, chin lifted in false dignity. "—I leave the recognition of being the biggest mistake my daughter ever made."

A collective gasp rippled through the room. Winn leaned back in his chair, an ironic smirk tugging at his lips.

Maurice didn’t stop. "Thomas Kane is, and always has been, an opportunist, a gold digger, and a man without honor."

Tom’s composure cracked. "That old bastard—" he started, but Anna’s sharp intake of breath cut him off.

Maurice turned to the next page and read on. "Therefore, I hereby leave my entire wealth—properties, businesses, shares, accounts, and all remaining assets—to my grandson, Winn Kane."

A stunned silence followed. Winn blinked slowly, absorbing the words that suddenly felt too heavy for the air in the room. He’d expected a good share, but everything?

Maurice continued, "Winn is to ensure that his sister, Sylvia Kane, lacks nothing and remains well cared for, financially and otherwise. This provision is not a request—it is an obligation."

Sylvia’s throat tightened, and she looked at Winn. He turned to her, their eyes locking—his full of quiet resolve, hers glimmering with emotion. "He knew," she whispered. "He always knew you’d protect me."

Winn’s hand found hers again, the squeeze firm, steady. "Always," he murmured.

Maurice’s eyes moved down the page. "This final condition," he read, "is my last attempt to protect Sylvia Kane from his greed."

Tom slammed his palm on the table. "That self-righteous old man!" His face was flushed red, his jaw trembling as he rose halfway from his chair. "He doesn’t get to dictate what happens to my family!"

Maurice went on, unbothered by the chaos. "In the event that Winn Kane does not live long enough for the reading of this will," he said, "ten percent of the estate will go to Sylvia Kane. The remainder is to be liquidated and donated to charities of Maurice Heathcliffe’s choosing."

Maurice cleared his throat softly. Every person in the room sat tense, waiting.

"In the event," Maurice began, "that Mr. Winn Kane fails to make a will before his death, all Orchard wealth shall pass to Winn’s children—if any—or, failing that, to Winn’s wife’s family but only after ten years of marriage."

When Maurice finally lowered the last page of the will, the silence that followed was thick enough to taste. "That concludes the written part of Mr. Orchard’s testament," he announced gently. Then, with ceremonial care, he lifted the sealed plastic case containing a CD and handed it to Raphael.

Raphael stood, crossed to the large media console, and slid the disc into the player. The screen flickered to life.

A moment later, George Orchard appeared—broad-shouldered even in old age, white hair perfectly combed, eyes still sharp. Sylvia’s breath caught, and before she could stop herself, she made a small, broken sound. Winn’s chest tightened instantly. Without thinking, he reached for her, drawing her close against his side.

"It’s okay," he murmured.

On the screen, George adjusted his spectacles, cleared his throat, and gave a wry smile. "So..." he said. "I guess I’m dead. Huh. That’s a hell of a way to start a video, isn’t it?"