Chapter 24
ROSE’S POINT OF VIEW
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The law office of Berkman, Wade, and Associates smelled of leather, money, and superiority. I adjusted my black dress and studied the others in the conference room. Mom dabbed at her eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. Dad stared blankly at the polished table. Stefan sat apart from us, face drawn and pale.
All of us performing our assigned roles. The grieving family. The heartbroken ex–husband. A perfect tableau of
loss.
And why wouldn’t we? Camille was dead. I knew that for certain. The men I’d hired hadn’t just scared her as originally planned, they’d gone further, forcing her car off that bridge, watching it sink into the dark water. They’d called me afterward, panic in their voices. I’d paid them extra for their silence, then cut all contact.
Martin Greene entered, carrying a leather portfolio. Dad’s longtime lawyer looked appropriately grave as he took a
Scal
“Thank you all for coming.” he said. “With the court having legally declared Camille deceased in absentia, we can now proceed with her last will and testament.”
“Is this really necessary?” Mom asked, voice wavering. “It’s only been six months.”
“In cases of drowning where no body is recovered, the court can grant a death certificate after reasonable search efforts have concluded,” Martin explained. “As Camille had significant independent assets that require disposition, the judge approved the declaration last week.”
I kept my expression neutral, though my mind raced. Independent assets? What independent assets?
“I wasn’t aware my sister had estate planning,” I said, injecting just the right note of confusion.
twenty–fifths
Martin opened his portfolio. “Camille updated her will last year, shortly after her As you may recall, that was when she received her inheritance from her grandfather.”
My blood froze. Grandfather Lewis. Dad’s father. The crusty old man who had doted on Camille, his only biological grandchild, while largely ignoring me.
“What inheritance?” I asked sharply, then immediately softened my tone. “I mean, she never mentioned receiving anything substantial,”
Dad finally looked up. “My father left Camille a portion of his estate when she turned twenty–five. It was private, between them.”
“How large a portion?” The question escaped before I could temper it.
Martin cleared his throat. “Mr. Lewis Senior established a trust for Camille valued at approximately thirty million dollars, along with the Cedar Hill estate.”
The room spun around me. Thirty million dollars. Plus a mansion on twenty acres of prime land. And she had never said a word.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered “I would have known.”
“Camille wanted it kept quiet,” Dad said. “She said money changes how people see you.”
Martin removed a document from his portfolio. “This is the last will and testament of Camille Elizabeth Lewis, revised and signed six months before her passing”
I leaned forward. Whatever secret fortune she’d hidden, it would surely come to her family now. To me, her only
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Chapter 24
sister.
“To my parents, Richard and Margaret Lewis, I leave my collection of family photographs and my gratitude for the life they gave me.”
Martin paused, glancing at my parents. Dad nodded stiffly. Mom’s crying grew louder.
“To my sister, Rose Lewis, I leave my journal collection, in hopes she may come to understand me better in death than she did in life.”
The journals. The ones I’d already taken and altered. A chill ran down my spine.
“To my former husband, Stefan Rodriguez, I return the engagement ring that belonged to his grandmother, with the hope that next time he gives it, it will be with honesty and true devotion.”
Stefan flinched visibly. The ring had been a source of pride, a family heirloom that supposedly symbolized his commitment.
“As to the remainder of my estate, including all financial assets, investment accounts, personal property not specifically mentioned, the Cedar Hill estate, and the entire balance of the trust established by my grandfather, I direct that it be liquidated and the proceeds distributed as follows.”
Here it was. The thirty million dollars and luxury estate that would surely be distributed among us.
One hundred percent of said assets shall be donated to the Lighthouse Foundation for Abused and Abandoned Children, to establish the Camille Lewis Memorial Fund for the education and support of girls in the foster system.
The silence that followed was absolute. Even Mom’s crying stopped abruptly.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice unnaturally high, “but could you repeat that?”
Martin glanced up. “The entirety of Camille’s estate, after specific bequests, is to be donated to the Lighthouse Foundation.”
“That’s not possible.” The words burst from me. “There must be some mistake.”
“There’s no mistake, Ms. Lewis. The will is quite clear and legally binding.”
“But…” I struggled to maintain composure. “That’s thirty million dollars and a prime piece of real estate. Going to complete strangers. While her family gets nothing but photographs and… and journals?”
Martin withdrew an envelope. “She also left a letter to be read at this time, explaining her decision
Dad nodded his permission, his expression unreadable.
Martin broke the seal on the envelope and unfolded the letter within.
“To my family,” he read. “If you’re hearing this, then I am gone, and you are now learning something I kept from all of you, that Grandfather left me a substantial inheritance when I turned twenty–five. I chose not to share this information, partly because I was still deciding how best to use such an unexpected blessing, but mostly because I needed to understand its power without influence from others.“”
I dug my fingernails into my palmus. Even in presumed death, Camille was judging us,
“The money gave me freedom I never expected to have. Frodom to consider who I really was outside of other people’s expectations and manipulations. Freedom to make choices based on my own values rather than seeking approval.‘
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Chapter 24
My gaze flicked to Stefan, who looked physically ill. Had he known about the money when he signed those divorce papers?
“I have chosen to direct my inheritance to help girls who lack the family support structure I was fortunate enough to have. The Lighthouse Foundation specifically assists young women transitioning from foster care to independent living. The Cedar Hill estate will be converted into a residential campus for their programs.“” Something cold settled in my stomach. Foster care. Of all the charities, she’d selected one helping girls from the system I’d escaped Was it coincidence, or had she somehow known?
my parents, thank you for the security and opportunities you provided. This decision isn’t a rejection of you, but rather an attempt to extend similar advantages to those without your resources.”
To
Dad’s jaw tightened. Mom resumed her quiet crying
““To Stefan, I’ve returned your grandmother’s ring not out of bitterness, but because family legacies should continue with true commitment.“”
“And to Rose, my sister by choice if not by blood, I leave my journals with hope rather than malice. In them, you’ll find the unfiltered thoughts of someone who spent years trying to understand you, to love you despite the distance you maintained between us. Perhaps in reading them, you’ll finally see me as I was, not as you needed
me to be
The blood drained from my face. *Sister by choice if not by blood.* A pointed reminder of my adopted status.
“I harbor no illusions that my modest fortune could have enhanced the lives of my already privileged family, but I believe it can transform the futures of dozens of young women who start with nothing. In this way, perhaps my departure might create meaning beyond grief.”
Martin folded the letter. “It’s signed, ‘With complicated love, Camille.“”
The silence felt charged with my unspoken rage. Thirty million dollars. Gone. To strangers. To foster girls who would never appreciate it properly.
“This can’t be legal,” I finally said. “She clearly wasn’t in her right mind.”
Martin raised an eyebrow. “The will was properly executed with witnesses who attested to her mental competence. The charitable intent is quite clear and legally sound.”
But
we’re her family,” I insisted, looking to my parents for support. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Camille had every legal right to dispose of her property as she wished,” Martin replied.
“We could contest it,” I suggested, turning to Dad. “Argue undue influence or something.”
Dad finally spoke, his voice tired. “Rose, enough. Camille made her choice. We will respect it.”
But Dad…”
“I said enough. My daughter is dead. I won’t dishonor her memory by fighting over money none of us need.” Mom reached for his hand. “Richard is right. This is what Camille wanted. Perhaps it will help us find meaning in
her loss.”
I stared at them in disbelief. Were they seriously accepting is?
“Stefan?” I turned to him, seeking an ally. “Don’t you have anything to say?”
He looked up slowly. “What is there to say? Camille made her wishes clear.” He gave a bitter laugh. “At least I get
Chapter 24
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the ring back. Small comfort.”
Martin cleared his throat. The transfer process has already begun. The Lighthouse Foundation has been notified, though the public announcement will wait until the family has had time to process this privately.”
As we prepared to leave, I noticed Dr. Elena Reyes, director of the Lighthouse Foundation, waiting in the reception
area
“I won’t intrude on your family’s grief,” she said softly, “I only wanted to express how Camille’s generosity will change lives. The girls in our program face nearly impossible odds, and this gift will provide opportunities they could never have imagined.”
Mom stepped forward, taking the woman’s hands in hers. “Would you tell me about your program sometime? I’d like to know more about what Camille was supporting”
In the elevator, I maintained my composure with effort. “I still think we should consider contesting the will. For Camille’s sake. She clearly wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Dad’s expression hardened. “Drop it, Rose. The money and property were never yours to begin with. Camille made her choice, and we will honor it.”
“But-
“I said drop it. I’ve lost my daughter. I won’t lose my integrity too by fighting over her wishes.”
The elevator doors opened, ending the conversation.
I declined the offer to ride home with my parents. In my own car, with the privacy screen raised, I finally let my mask slip, slamming my fist against the leather seat.
Thirty million dollars and the Cedar Hill estate. The amounts kept repeating in my mind like a taunt. Assets Camille had hidden from me. Wealth that should have been mine, Money now flowing to unwashed, uncultured foster brats who would never deserve it the way I did.
I, who had survived the system through cunning and determination. I, who had clawed my way into the Lewis family through careful study and perfect performance. I, who had spent fourteen years proving my superiority over their biological daughter.
And now, the final insult, Camille’s money going to help girls from the very background I’d fought so desperately to escape and conceal.
The journals sat beside me, a mocking reminder of her final message. *In hope rather than malice. As if she’d somehow known I would take them. As if she’d anticipated my every move.
But she couldn’t have. The real Camille had been naive, trusting, easily manipulated. This will had likely been written in a moment of misguided altruism, not calculated revenge.
Unless….
What if Camille had updated her will after discovering I and Stefan’s affair before her death? After beginning to see through my manipulations?
What if the money had originally been intended for me, and she’d changed her mind upon discovering my
betraval?
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