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CHAPTER 3

Janus

"What are you thinking about, Mr. Malcolm?" Mr. Rudolph Twain asked. The short, thin man in a blue Calvin Klein suit and red tie did not bother to sit down for this meeting. He looked like he was in his fifties, with a receding hairline but an unusually smooth face. He was my lawyer. I could not imagine ever needing one, but here we were.

I was probably sitting there for a few minutes, at a loss for words. Mr. Twain would not fully understand how it felt for my whole life to go upside down because of one meeting.

People might disagree with me. Upside down was not how people would describe their lives if they suddenly discovered that they would inherit billions.

Dressed in my best suit, threadbare and ill-fitted, I watched the city through the lawyer's office view, my fist covering my lower lip and chin as if I could not trust myself to speak. The whole wall panel was made of reinforced glass. It was a great view, not because I loved looking at traffic chaos but because it made people feel like they were on top of the world

Not that I cared about those things. I lived in a tiny, two-bedroom apartment with my mom for most of my adult life. She died the year before, and now, this guy here was telling me that my dad had just died.

I laughed. I told Mr. Twain that my dad died years ago and that he and my mother went through a messy divorce even years before that.?

Mr. Twain had no time for jokes. I wondered how much he would get after everything had been processed. It was probably an amount I had not even dreamed of earning, even though my new job was pretty promising

"Mr. Twain, I don't know what to think. You're telling me that everything I knew about my parents was a lie. How do you think I should react to that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as I swiveled the chair I was sitting on to face him.

"Well, other people would focus on the billions," he answered in his signature monotone.

"True," I nodded vigorously. Everyone seemed to think that money was the answer to everything. "But I am not a little child anymore. I can work to earn my living. I don't have student loans or any debts to pay for – that I know of."

"Yes, I understand that you are an industrial engineer. Have you ever wondered how you managed to get through college without any student loans to pay for?"

That got my attention. It had always been on my mind. However, I often answered this with the same little coda I started believing through the years. My father had been too guilty about the divorce that he paid for my tuition. I had to close my eyes and squeeze them to forget that my dad looked like he could murder my mom right before they separated.?

Somehow, I knew that the divorce was my mom's fault.

"I have to admit I have wondered about that. I always thought my father paid for my tuition, and I worked on the side to pay for the rest of the expenses."

"The father that you knew died a drunk. Literally. It was cirrhosis of the liver that did him in if your mother had not told you the details."

I did not know about this specifically, but I suspected it was the case. Mr. Edgar Malcolm drank a lot, and his ex-wife did not want to sully his reputation further.?

"So, you're telling me that Mr. Theodore Sangster IV paid for everything? But how come I had never heard of him? How did he not come and visit, especially during the toughest moments of my life? I had to work two jobs while studying for us to survive."

"Your mother would not take anything from him. She blamed him for the breakdown of her marriage. It's difficult, yes, but you have been conceived while she was still married to Mr. Malcolm."

"A child of adultery, huh? So, you see, even with the billions, it is not easy to accept this new reality."

"I understand. However, you cannot change the past, but you can change the present, Mr. Malcolm. We can also legally change your name to Sangster. You are his only biological child."

"That is what I had problems wrapping my head around. I am his only biological child, but he never came to see me. How is he so confident I am his child?"

The lawyer was quiet. He finally sat down in front of his desk and opened a drawer. He took a folder, and then he walked towards me with it in hand. He opened the folder and took out what looked like a photograph.

"Here, look at that. That was Mr. Sangster from about thirty-odd years ago."

I sucked in a breath. The deceased billionaire looked exactly like me.?

"Okay, you got me. So, I am his child. Why do I need to change my life? Why do I need to accept this inheritance? He has four adopted children, all adults. They expect to divide the money among themselves. Meanwhile, here I am, a fresh graduate with a good job. Life could not get any better, I should say. I am used to poverty, Mr. Twain."

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