Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. George hobbled over, looking at me with something close to pity.
"Simon, stop overthinking this. If your uncle didn't love you, why would he have set up a trust fund in your name?"
I froze.
Uncle Harvey's dying words echoed back to me—his hand gripping mine, his voice barely a whisper.
"Simon, I've set aside a trust fund for you. A substantial one. Don't touch it unless you absolutely have to. The password... only the true heir would know."
I'd been too grief-stricken to process what he meant.
I'd assumed it was just a safety net—his way of protecting me if my business failed.
But now I understood. He'd been preparing for something. He'd seen this coming.
My gaze locked onto Russ, sharp as a blade.
"One last time, Russ. Come to the bank with me. Prove you're really the heir."
He studied me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he scoffed.
"Fine. I'll go. But when they confirm I'm the legitimate heir, you—Simon Abbott—will never show your face in front of me again."
I didn't hesitate. "Done."
We arrived at the bank and were escorted to the Trust Department.