In his final days, Mr. Lewis saw through the superficial gestures of his family, but no one anticipated the twist that a young girl’s simple act of kindness would bring during the reading of his will.
At 83, Mr. Lewis reflected on the life he had built from humble beginnings. He had worked tirelessly to establish his business and made a name for himself by his 40s, but his achievements were not just measured by wealth.
Mr. Lewis dedicated his life to doing good. He raised a family of eight—four biological and four adopted children—and opened his home to foster kids in need. His late wife used to say with a gentle smile, “You always have room for one more,” as he welcomed each new child into their lives.
Despite his generosity, his home grew quiet as his children became less frequent visitors. Their conversations often began with requests for financial help rather than genuine affection. His grandchildren, too, only visited during holidays, treating him more like a bank than a beloved grandfather.
When Mr. Lewis received a terminal diagnosis, he faced the news with quiet dignity. That evening, he called his family, and soon they gathered at his mansion from around the world. They showed up quickly, eager for the inheritance rather than out of genuine concern.
When Mr. Lewis passed away, his family hurried to the lawyer’s office for the reading of the will, their feigned sorrow quickly forgotten. “I bet he left the most to me,” Olivia muttered, while Richard argued about who deserved more.
The room fell silent when Mr. Alaric, the family lawyer, arrived with a young girl, no older than thirteen. Her presence was unexpected and confusing.
“Who’s the kid?” Richard asked, his smirk fading.
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