Page 2 of The Billionaire I Left Behind

But then he disappears, swallowed by the shadows, leaving me standing in the sunlight, feeling colder than I ever have.

***

I stand at the kitchen table, a chipped mug in my hands. The deep blue of the porcelain contrasts with my worn-out sweatshirt.

It's barely hours since my grandma has been laid to rest, and I’m already hunched over a notepad to plan for the last of the money I have.

I'm scribbling down numbers as I bite my lip, eyes flicking back and forth between the figure on the paper and the sparse savings left in my bank account. All thanks to the little money I managed to save and the little things I sold when I decided to move back to Ocean Bay.

It’s less than five thousand dollars but it’s enough for maybe two months, if I’m frugal. And years dealing with my dad's trouble has taught me that. I pause at the thought of my father but shake it off before I can dwell on it.

He isn't here anymore Emma.That's all that has kept me going since he passed away six years back. It doesn't matter if his actions still torment me. What's important is that I don't have to deal with more of his shenanigans.

At least, Grandma made sure that her insurance policy could cover her funeral expenses. Who knows how I would have survived by now if it wasn't for that? On the flipside, my late dad who had done the opposite, left me wallowing in debt for his funeral.

He probably didn’t think he would die so soon. Neither did I. He got into trouble, but I didn't think a hit-and-run six years ago would end him. No one ever found out the truth behind that accident, but I have my suspicions. My father’s debts likely led to his seeming accident. Grandma had faded then, from both grief and illness.

My pen taps against the page as my mind races, calculating the cost of essentials for my dream: my own veterinary clinic that for years I’ve wanted to open here in Ocean Bay.

After I manage to finish college two years back and became a vet doctor, I worked in a couple of clinics but the constant monitoring from my father’s debtors and the work environmentwhich focused more on making money than anything else didn't bring me the fulfillment I hoped for. Now, it's time to fulfill my childhood dream.

I can make it work. I have to. The money’s tight, but I’ve always been resourceful. My hands shake as I write down the list again, checking each box, like checking off my hopes, one by one.

A buzz from my phone breaks the silence, pulling my attention away from the notepad. I glance at the screen at a familiar number. It's Mr. Henshaw, my grandma's friend and lawyer.

Instantly, my forehead creases with a frown. I saw him at the funeral just few hours ago. What could be the problem?

“Hello Emma,” his voice comes through the speaker.

“Hi Mr. Henshaw, how are you doing?”

“I'm doing well my dear. How are you?”

“I'm fine,” I say instinctually, knowing it’s not anything near to my actual emotional state.

“Once again, sorry for your loss,”

“Thank you, is there problem?”

“Not at all. I just need you to come to my office. I’ll like to read your late grandmother's will. So, I'll like to know when you will be available.”

I wasn’t expecting this so soon. “I can come now,” I reply quickly. It's probably just some documents that need my signature.

There’s a pause, then he responds, his tone shifting slightly. “Not yet. I need to call the second beneficiary first.”

My heart stutters. Second beneficiary?

Confusion flits across my face. I grip the phone tighter, my mind reeling. There’s no one else. My father’s dead. As far as I know Grandma had no other family.

“What do you mean second beneficiary Mr. Henshaw? My grandmother had no other relative that I know off.”

“I understand you have questions about this. All I can say is when you come over for the reading you will get answers to all your questions.”

His words do nothing to reassure me. My head keeps spinning about who this mysterious person is.

“I’ll call you back when we set a date,” he continues, his voice suddenly cooler, a hint of finality in it. “Goodbye.”

The line clicks, and I’m left holding the phone to my ear in stunned silence. A second beneficiary? Who? I feel the walls of the house close in around me.

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