“I’m alright. I can’t complain.”
“Good, good.” He stacked and fondled the papers on his desk.
“Why was Amelia so upset? Mecca left all of his funds to the church or some shit?”
He finally settled into his seat and made direct eye contact with me.
“No, Amir. Your father actually left all of his money to you.”
“To me?”
My head jerked back in confusion.
“What? How?”
“Well, in Mecca’s will, it states that his money shall go to Salah in the time of his death. If Salah is unable to collect, it would skip you and go to Abraham. But, with Abraham not able to receive the money, it was written to go to the next heir in line, which is you.”
“Me? I’m getting all of Mecca’s fortune?”
I sat back in my seat and rubbed the hairs on my chin. I stayed silent for at least thirty seconds until Bishelli spoke up.
“Amir, I understand that this is a touchy subject, and there is a lot of money falling into your lap. But that is where financial advisors and such come into play to help you.”
“How much money is it?” I cut in.
“There is about thirty million dollars, sir, through assets like the homes, cars, and other possessions. Now the main home will go to Amelia, but the money in the bank account and the one summer home is yours as well as all of the other properties.”
I leaned forward and shook my head because I couldn’t believe this shit.
All this week, I just knew Mecca didn’t have me anywhere in his will, and this trip to the attorney would be for nothing. But the truth of the matter is, he probably expected his other two sons to outlive me by decades. I’m sure he never even thought to change the will between Abraham and his death. He was most likely hanging on to the fact that I wouldn’t be alive too much longer anyway. I’m sure he had already put millions on my head for killing his last loved son.
“So now, we can discuss the release of these funds, where you would like them wired to. Any potential selling of the property and things of that sort. Unless you want to keep them for yourself.”
“Nah, sell it all. And I don’t need all that money.”
Bishelli cleared his throat.
“So, you want to sell the summer home and other properties.”
“Yep, and do something with the money too.”
The confusion plagued this nigga’s face.
“I’m sorry, I’m a little confused, sir. The money is yours to take. Are you understanding that part, sir?”
“Yeah, I am, but I don’t want it, nor do I need it. I don’t have any children, and I like the quiet little life I live.” I stood up from the chair, looking down into Bishelli’s confused ass face.
“So, where do I sign to get ten million dollars wired to me, and fifteen sent to a charity in New York. Preferably one that feeds children and the homeless.”
“Uh, I, I, I can draw up the paperwork and get all of that to you, but are you sure, sir? More than half of your wealth is a lot to give to charity.”
“I’m positive. Now use the last five mil of the thirty that I didn’t mention earlier to hire the best private investigator you can find.”
“A private investigator to look into your family’s massacre?” he asked, eyes widening.
“Nah. That shit will unravel itself one day. I need the investigator to go and find my mother. Whether dead or alive, I need to know where she is.”
I replied, before walking to the door.
