Chapter 7 - The Inheritance HuntWhile Grant and Vanessa plotted my imminent financial submission, I spent my evenings reviewing the structural blueprints of my former company, Sterling Industries, which Grant had slowly maneuvered himself into managing as vice president of operations. Under his brief tenure, employee morale had plummeted, safety regulations had been quietly bypassed to cut overhead costs, and several lucrative government contracts had been flagged for quality discrepancies.
They weren't just greedy; they were incompetent. They wanted the status of wealth without possessing the discipline required to maintain it.
One evening, Vanessa finally visited the rehabilitation center, bringing along a plastic container of hospital-grade Jell-O and a forced, sugary smile. She sat gingerly on the edge of my armchair, smoothing down her designer skirt. “Dad, really, you can’t stay in this depressing place forever. Grant and I have everything set up at the house. We hired a full-time nurse, and we really need you to sign those estate papers so we can finalize the insurance payout for the fire rebuild. The contractors are breathing down our necks.”
I looked at my daughter, searching my memory for the little girl I had raised, the one who used to sit on my shoulders while we walked through the apple orchards. That girl was gone, swallowed entirely by a bottomless pit of entitlement and greed.
“Vanessa,” I said softly, pitching my voice to sound tired and fragile. “Do you ever think about that night? About the fire?”
Her hands twitched instantly, her eyes darting away toward the door. “Of course I do, Dad! It was terrifying! We almost lost you!”
“You left me under that beam, Vanessa,” I whispered, holding her gaze with unwavering intensity. “You looked right at me, and you turned around.”
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For a fraction of a second, genuine panic flashed across her face, her breathing turning shallow. Then she hastily erected her psychological defense mechanism, hardening her expression into defensive indignation. “That’s a horrible thing to say, Dad! The fire was moving too fast! We couldn't lift the beam! Grant tried, but the heat was unbearable! You’re just confused because of the smoke inhalation.”
She stood up abruptly, grabbing her purse. “I’ll bring the papers back tomorrow, Dad. Try to get some rest. You clearly need it.” She practically bolted from the room, slamming the door behind her. She couldn't handle the truth because the truth made her a monster. And monsters hate holding up a mirror to themselves.
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