"You tampered with the video, didn't you? Your surname is Finch, and so is his—you two are in this together, scheming to steal my uncle's inheritance!"
Charles Finch's expression shifted, but he maintained his composure. "Mr. Abbott, I understand you're upset. However, this was Mr. Dickerson's own decision. If you have doubts, I suggest you contact the police or pursue legal channels. Violence won't solve anything."
I released him and immediately dialed 911.
When Officer Grant arrived, he had the video analyzed. The verdict: original footage, no splicing, no AI manipulation.
Furthermore, the investigation confirmed that Charles Finch and Russ Finch shared no familial connection whatsoever. They'd never even crossed paths before today—this was their first meeting.
My mind went blank.
Where did everything go wrong?
Uncle Harvey had drafted his will just one month before his death. Why would he suddenly change his mind?
Officer Grant studied my crestfallen face, his tone hovering somewhere between lecture and mockery:
"Kid, maybe look in the mirror for answers. You probably weren't a good nephew. Hell, forget an uncle—even your own father has every right to leave his estate to whoever he wants if you've disappointed him."
Something cracked open in my skull.
Father?
My gaze snapped to Russ Finch. A horrifying thought began clawing its way through my mind.
I was forcibly removed from the villa I'd called home for over twenty years.
On my way out, when no one was looking, I pocketed the half-smoked cigar Russ had left behind.
The moment I cleared the gate, I rushed to the hospital, retrieved a stored blood sample from Uncle Harvey, and headed straight to the Forensic DNA Lab.
The wait was excruciating.
Uncle Harvey had lived an immaculate life. Despite his immense wealth, he never indulged in excess—no wild parties, no string of lovers. Outside of necessary business functions, he lived more austerely than a monk.
I racked my brain until it ached, but I couldn't fathom him having a secret child.
Yet if that wasn't the case, how else could I explain him rewriting his will in Russ Finch's favor?
After what felt like an eternity, the results arrived.
The instant I saw them, my entire body turned to stone.
"Biological paternity: EXCLUDED."
The words sliced through me like serrated blades.
Uncle Harvey had actually handed over a lifetime's worth of hard-earned billions... to a complete stranger with no blood relation?
I couldn't wrap my head around it. I truly couldn't.
Did Russ have some kind of leverage over him?
But according to the police investigation, Russ Finch was just an ordinary employee at some third-rate company. What possible dirt could he have on someone like Uncle Harvey?
Unless... they had that kind of relationship?
Given my uncle's apparent disinterest in women, maybe it wasn't so far-fetched.
The thought nearly short-circuited my brain.
My mind was a storm of chaos.
Was I really supposed to watch a fortune that should've been mine slip through my fingers?
Let my uncle's life's work be swallowed up by some stranger without explanation?
After standing frozen for what felt like hours, I pulled out my phone and called a private investigator I knew.
"I need you to dig up everything on a man named Russ Finch. Three generations back. From birth to now—everyone he's met, every bank transaction, every detail, no matter how small. The more thorough, the better. And make it fast."
I hung up and headed for a five-star hotel.
At the front desk, I handed over my card. The terminal beeped, and the words "CARD FROZEN" echoed through the empty lobby like a slap.
Right. All my cards were just extensions of Uncle Harvey's accounts. Now that everything belonged to Russ Finch, of course he'd cut me off immediately.
I had no choice but to retreat to Grandma Margaret Abbott's old apartment—the run-down place she'd left to my mother.
I counted the cash in my wallet. A few crumpled bills. Forget next semester's tuition—I couldn't even guarantee my next meal.
