Bastard Daughter
“Now reading the last will and testament of Sir Wilbur Drake.”
The well-established lawyer, Mr Booth Watson, QC, paused, doing up his tie before continuing to read the final dying words of a man he had respected.
“Witnessed by his son and signed by the man well before he lost his senses to the illness,” he added. Wilbur was a man who would not leave anything to chance. The moment he realised he might lose his mind to the illness, he called to have his will revised.
The family sat in a closed courtroom. Lady Sandra Drake patted at her eyes, drying what the lawyer would have only described as ‘crocodile tears’. He adored the man, but always had a bad feeling about the woman he had chosen to marry. He was almost certain those tears would be gone the moment she was out of the courtroom, counting on a large inheritance from her doting husband. Her children’s grief was much more believable. The oldest, Master William Drake, was just finishing university and was going to study under ‘the best lawyer my dad knows’. Mr Booth Watson was happy to take on the challenge. The youngest was about 15 and had already started creating artworks worthy of the Louvre. They both wept for their dead father.
“I, Sir Wilbur Drake, of sound mind and body, have decided to share my will as follows.” Mr Booth Watson paused and looked up at two sobbing faces and one eager one.
“To my firstborn son, I leave you the dog, Drake, as both of you have always been best of friends. I also leave you 30% of my shares in the company, my house in West London, and your pick of a single car — excluding the white Mercedes, which I’m certain your mother would want to commandeer.”
Susan smiled.
William looked pleased. The items were respectable enough for him. The house was the smallest his father owned, but he understood — his father had always wanted his son to make his own future.
“To my beloved daughter, I leave you with the other 21% of my shares and my house in Cambridge. These shall be kept by your older brother until your 21st birthday, at which point, they must be relinquished in full.”
She stuck her tongue out at her brother, earning a smile from him.
“I have opened a bank account where the sum of 5000 pounds shall be added every month until your 21st birthday. These funds are to be strictly used for your education. Any remaining balance will then be transferred to your personal account.”
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“To my wife, I leave you the family house and a monthly salary of 5000 pounds, which should be sufficient to maintain the housekeeping staff, with some excess for your frivolous nature.”
Booth couldn’t agree more with the last statement, but he held his counsel.
Mr Booth Watson paused and frowned, his brows furrowing.
“What’s wrong?” Lady Sandra asked.
“There’s a clause appended on here that I didn’t know about,” he said.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “Read it.”
He adjusted his glasses and read: “I have decided to change my will. I now leave everything I own to my firstborn child, the only exception being the family home, which will still go to my wife along with her salary, and the money to be put in my daughter’s account.”
The room fell silent.
While Lady Sandra was trying to make sense of what she had just heard, the door creaked open.
“This is supposed to be a closed session,” she said. “Family only.”
The woman who walked in was tall. Her brown skin caught the sunlight spilling from a window, giving her a golden aura. Her blue eyes glinted. She wore a calm, collected smile as she sauntered down the aisle, finding herself a seat beside the son.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but this is for the deceased family only,” Mr Booth Watson said.
“I know,” she said, “and I’m terribly sorry to hear that my father has passed.”
