I turned eighteen on a Tuesday. No cake. No card. Not even a half-hearted “happy birthday.” Just my father sitting at the kitchen table, his wife stirring sugar into her mug, and my stepbrother leaning back in his chair with that look people get when they already know how the story ends.

He pointed at me.

“You think because some dead man left you a company, you’re suddenly better than us?”

I looked at him.

“No.”

I paused.

“I think I’m exactly the same person I was thirty days ago.”

His anger faltered.

“But now,” I continued, “I know the truth.”

Richard reached for the remote.

“There’s more.”

The lights dimmed.

A screen came down behind the board.

My grandfather appeared.

Alive.

Sitting in the conference room.

My father looked like he’d been punched.

“No.”

The recording began.

My grandfather’s voice filled the room.

“When I die, Nathan will receive everything.”

My father’s voice followed.

“Then I’ll make sure he never knows.”

The recording continued.

“You can’t hide him forever, Daniel.”

“I can keep him away from you.”