On the day my dad passed away, I said nothing about the $28M inheritance—or about the skyscraper in New York City under my name. That same night, my stepmom screamed, “Pack your bags, you’re not staying here!”

2

Vivian ripped open the envelope in the foyer.

The first page was a formal notice from the executor explaining the ninety-day occupancy clause. It warned that any attempt to remove me, change the locks, or dispose of Dad’s property could trigger immediate court review.

“You knew about this,” she said.

“No. I learned tonight.”

Caleb snatched the papers. “Dad would never write something this humiliating.”

Samuel remained on speaker.

“Your stepfather signed the will eleven months ago with two independent witnesses.”

Vivian turned her anger toward me.

“So this