Ever since my uncle's lung cancer diagnosis, his doctors had forbidden him from smoking. Every cigarette in the house had been confiscated.
That hiding spot? Only Uncle Harvey and I knew about it.
So how did this stranger know?
Russ's expression remained utterly blank. He tapped the name on his will.
"Can't you read? I'm Russ Finch. Legal heir to Mr. Dickerson's estate." A pause. "Now—are you going to leave, or do I need to call someone?"
"Impossible!"
My voice cracked. "That will is forged! I demand the attorney verify its authenticity!"
Charles studied the document again, his face growing more solemn with each passing second. Finally, he nodded.
"This will is genuine and legally binding. Mr. Finch is indeed the rightful heir."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I shook my head, unable to accept what I was hearing.
"How can this be real? I'm his family. His closest living relative. Why would he leave everything to a complete stranger?"
Russ regarded me with something that might have been amusement. "You should ask your uncle that. Why he gave his billions to an outsider instead of the nephew he supposedly loved like a son."
I froze.