The Legacy of Ross Albright

Part Two of the Story… 👇

Inheritance Betrayal

I walked through the pouring rain until my bare feet were numb against the cold pavement of Oakville, my head throbbing from where Celina had pushed me against the table. Every instinct shouted at me to crumble, to sit on the damp curb and give in to the overwhelming grief of losing my father and my home in a single day. But beneath the shock, a cold flame ignited inside me. My father had not built a multi-billion-dollar empire by being naive, and he certainly had not raised me to surrender to parasites.

I reached a small gas station three miles down the road. The clerk took one look at my bloodied forehead and soaked clothes, offering me his personal desk phone without asking a single question. My fingers trembled as I dialed a phone number I had memorized when I was twelve years old: Arthur Pendelton, my father’s lifelong personal attorney and closest friend.

The phone rang twice before a raspy, solemn voice answered. Arthur’s voice was weary, weighed down by the funeral we had both attended just hours earlier. The moment I told him where I was and what Gavin had done, the weary tone vanished, replaced by an icy, formidable sharp attention. Within fifteen minutes, Arthur’s black sedan pulled into the gas station parking lot. He stepped out with a thick wool coat, immediately wrapping it around my shoulders and ushering me into the back seat where a thermos of warm water and a first-aid kit awaited.

Arthur didn’t panic. He sat beside me, his expression unreadable as he patched the cut on my forehead. He didn’t ask how Gavin managed to trick me into signing those papers, nor did he scold me for trusting my husband. Instead, he reached into his leather briefcase and pulled out a heavy, dark red leather portfolio sealed with golden wax.

“Your father knew this day might come, Naomi,” Arthur said softly, his voice echoing in the quiet interior of the car. “Ross was an extraordinary strategist. He hired Gavin because he recognized his ambition, but he kept him close because he recognized his greed. Six months ago, your father realized Gavin was covertly attempting to syphon assets out of Summit Enterprises. He didn’t fire him immediately because he wanted to see how far the betrayal went, and more importantly, he wanted to build a vault that Gavin could never crack.”

Arthur broke the golden wax seal and opened the portfolio. Inside was an encrypted silver tablet along with a sealed white envelope. Arthur pressed the power button on the tablet and handed me a set of high-definition earpieces.

“Put these on,” Arthur instructed quietly. “And open the envelope.”

With trembling hands, I tore open the envelope. Inside was a single piece of paper containing a private key code and a short note in my father’s distinct, firm handwriting: Press play, my sweet girl.

I entered the code into the tablet interface. The screen flickered, and suddenly audio began to play through the earpieces. A voice resonated clearly in my ears—a voice that made my heart leap into my throat, a voice that was so warm, commanding, and vibrant that for a terrifying, wonderful second, I thought my father was standing right beside me in the dark car.