Did I Change The Keys?! I Was Shocked When I Couldn’t Open The Door… Then I Called My Son!
“We can talk when you’re better.”
“No baby.”
His grip tightened with surprising force.
“No more pretending.”
“This is it and you need to know everything.”
Maya’s tears fell faster.
“Daddy, please.”
“In my apartment,”
he continued,
each word an effort.
“Bedroom closet.”
“Old Nike shoe box.”
“False bottom.”
“There’s a key.”
“A key?”
“Safety deposit box.”
“First National Bank.”
“Box 1247.”
He coughed, his whole body shaking.
“Everything you need is there.”
“Everything I should have told you years ago.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
His eyes found hers, and in them she saw something she’d never seen before: fear.
It was fear not of dying, but of leaving her unprepared.
“Promise me.”
“Promise you’ll go.”
“Promise you won’t tell anyone until you understand.”
“I promise.”
“Not Marcus.”
His voice gained sudden strength.
“Especially not Marcus.”
Maya’s breath caught.
“What?”
“Why?”
“Because I see him baby.”
“I see how he looks at you now that you’re pregnant.”
“Now that I’m sick, like you’re a burden instead of a blessing.”
His breathing was getting shallower.
“I added something to my will 3 weeks ago.”
“Protection for you, for my grandbaby.”
“Daddy, what are you talking about?”
But the machines were changing their rhythm.
The beeps were spreading further apart.
A nurse rushed in, checked the monitors, and her face told Maya everything.
“Mr. Richardson,”
the nurse said gently,
“Do you want us to?”
“No,”
James whispered.
“No machines, just my daughter.”
The nurse nodded and quietly left, closing the door behind her.
James looked at Maya and, despite everything, he smiled.
“You know what the best day of my life was?”
Maya shook her head, unable to speak past the sob in her throat.
“The day your mama put you in my arms.”
“You were so tiny, so perfect.”
“And I looked at you and I thought, ‘This is it.'”
“This is what I was born for.”
“Not money, not power, not all the things my family tried to make me want.”
“Just you.”
“Just loving you, mama.”
Maya’s voice broke.
Her mother had died giving birth to her, so she’d never known her.
She was a teacher, beautiful, kind, everything pure in this world.
His eyes were distant now, seeing something Maya couldn’t.
“My family hated her.”
“Said she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t in our class.”
“They gave me a choice.”
“Her or the inheritance.”
“What inheritance?”
“I chose her baby.”
“Every time I chose love, and when she died bringing you into this world, I chose you.”
“I walked away from billions to raise you right, to teach you what actually matters.”
Maya’s head was spinning.
“Billions?”
“Daddy, what?”
“My real name is James Hartwell III.”
Each word was getting harder for him.
“Hartwell Industrial Holdings, my grandfather’s empire.”
“I was supposed to take over.”
“Supposed to marry some debutante my mother picked out.”
“But I met your mama at a charity event and I knew.”
“I knew she was my real life.”
“So I left, changed my name, got a job mopping floors, and I never regretted it.”
“Not once.”
“You’ve been rich this whole time?”
Maya couldn’t process it.
Her father who’d worked double shifts, who’d driven a car held together with duct tape, who’d made her peanut butter sandwiches for lunch every day because that’s what they could afford.
“Not rich baby.”
“Wealthy.”
“There’s a difference.”
“Rich is what you have.”
“Wealthy is what you are.”
He smiled through the pain.
“And you, my darling girl, are the wealthiest person I know.”
“You have character, integrity, a heart so big it scares me sometimes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted you to grow up normal.”
“To marry someone who loved you, not your bank account.”
“To know your own strength.”
His breathing was labored now.
“But I never stopped managing it.”
