That night, I couldn’t sleep.

Not because I regretted anything.

Because Derek’s last words stuck like a splinter.

So the next morning, I met Vincent again.

“I need to know everything,” I said.

Vincent nodded once. “Okay. Full transparency.”

He slid a folder toward me.

“Theodore’s assets are significant,” he said. “But so are the obligations.”

I swallowed. “What kind of obligations?”

Vincent opened the folder and tapped a page.

“Lawsuits,” he said.
“Old disputes on properties. Contractor issues. A few debts tied to expansion—nothing unusual for a construction company.”

My stomach tightened.

Then he lifted his eyes to mine.

“But Theodore planned for this too,” Vincent added. “He created a reserve account to protect the company—funded and locked in a way Derek cannot touch.”

I exhaled, relieved.

Vincent turned another page.

“There’s more,” he said.

And he slid a sealed envelope across the desk.

It had my name on it.

Handwritten.

Joanna.

I stared at it, throat tight.

Vincent’s voice softened. “He asked me to give you that only after the will reading. He said… you’d need it.”

I opened the envelope with shaking fingers.

Inside was a letter.

PART TWELVE

Theodore’s Letter: The Real Inheritance

It wasn’t long.

But every sentence felt like it was written with a steady hand—like a man who had finally accepted what his son would never become.

Joanna,
If you’re reading this, then Derek has already shown you exactly who he is.

I’m sorry. Not for what I did in the will—never for that.
I’m sorry I let him become a man who believes love is something he deserves without earning.

The company will challenge you. Derek will try to shame you. People will test you.
Don’t respond with anger. Respond with structure.

Here is the truth:
Derek wasn’t disinherited because I didn’t love him.
He was disinherited because he would destroy everything I built… and he would destroy you with it.

You did not inherit my money.
You inherited my trust.

Don’t waste it shrinking.

—Theodore

My vision blurred.

Not because of the money.

Because for the first time in my life, someone had seen me clearly and said:

You were enough. You always were.

Vincent cleared his throat gently. “There’s one more attachment.”

I wiped my eyes, steadying myself.

Vincent slid a final document across the desk.

A clause.

A condition.

A trap.

PART THIRTEEN

The Trap That Destroyed Derek for Good

Vincent pointed at the clause.

“If Derek threatens you, harasses you, or tries to damage the company,” he said, “Theodore authorized this.”

“What is it?” I asked.

Vincent’s mouth didn’t smile, but his eyes did — slightly.

“A disclosure,” he said.

“A disclosure?” I repeated.

Vincent nodded.

“Theodore kept a sealed folder of Derek’s financial history,” he explained. “Gambling debts. Fraudulent loan applications. A record of money that went missing. Theodore didn’t want to destroy his son publicly…”

He paused.

“…unless Derek forced his hand.”

My heartbeat slowed.

Not because I was cruel.

Because I understood.

Theodore didn’t want revenge.

He wanted protection.

Vincent looked at me. “If Derek escalates, we can submit this documentation legally, and it will follow him everywhere — banks, courts, employers.”

I stared down at the paper.

And I thought about Derek in that lobby.
Playing victim.
Pointing at me like I was the thief.

I folded the document gently.

“Good,” I said.

And I meant it.

PART FOURTEEN

Derek’s Collapse Wasn’t Loud — It Was Inevitable

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