The next day, while Brandon was dividing cold fries among his four kids, a silver sedan pulled up near his tent. A man in a fancy suit got out and approached him.
“Morning, sir. Mr. Grives’s last wish was for me to deliver this to you,” he said, extending an envelope.
Brandon wiped his hands and took it. There was a letter inside.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Brandon looked up at the man.
The man produced a stack of printed papers and a pen. “Mr. Grives was quite serious. And the moment you sign these papers, it’ll be official. You’ll inherit his company as well as other personal assets.”
“But I just met the guy yesterday. And now he’s dead and leaving me everything?” Brandon asked as he studied the documents. He was no stranger to legalese and had managed several small businesses before he fell on hard times.
“I understand your concerns, sir, but these papers were drawn by the finest lawyers. Mr. Grives was quite clear in his intent. All we need to do is fill in your name, and the lawyers will proceed with the rest.”
This was his chance to provide his kids with a better life, so Brandon signed the documents. Then, the man drove him and the children to their new home.
As they arrived, Brandon stared up at the massive, colonial-style mansion at the top of the driveway.
“Can we put up a tent under that tree with pink flowers?” little Derrick asked.
