The Inheritance Novel Novels & Stories

The phrase haunted Jessica. Who inherited him. Not his money. Not his gallery. Not his collection. Something else. Something darker. Something Isabelle had been trying to explain from the beginning. Patterns. Networks. Mentors. Teachers. Students. Inheritance. Not of property. Of behaviour. Of power. Of secrets. The next morning, Henri looked exhausted before Jessica had even spoken. The old man took one look at her face. Then sighed. "Another message." It wasn't a question.

Despite doing all that for Ethan, he'd shoved me down the stairs and killed me, but it seems like I have been reborn exactly two years ago when I had gotten the call regarding my father's inheritance. I looked at the wedding photo on the nightstand—Ethan’s lying, smiling face. A wave of nausea hit me, followed by a cold, searing clarity. “I understand,”I said. My voice was no longer shaking. It was like ice. “May I confirm your marital and family status for the inheritance process?” He asked. “Do you have a spouse or children who will be co-beneficiaries?” I didn't hesitate. “No,” I strongly confirmed. “I have no husband or children. I'll inherit everything. Alone.”

Maybe if he did help me, it would still count right? “Impossible!” Lena’s obnoxious voice rang out before anyone could say anything. I watched as she somehow appeared next to me and the alpha without a sound. Her expression turned righteous as she let out, “Our tradition has been laid down for centuries. Making sure we follow the ways of our ancestors, so as to stay true to our wolves and to the moon. Breaking a deal seated tradition, such as one for the selection of our new leader would be detrimental to the clan,” she surveyed the crowd as she spoke. But I knew for a fact that her gaze lingered on the alpha the most.

Connected from the very beginning. Nathaniel closed his eyes. "Margaret was there." Of course she was. Always Margaret. Always at the center. "What was she doing?" Vivienne asked. His shoulders shook. The answer clearly haunted him. Then he whispered it. "Choosing." The word hit the room like a bomb. Nathaniel looked sick. "She believed only one child should inherit everything." No one spoke. Because we all understood. The inheritance. The obsession. The manipulation. It had started much earlier than anyone imagined.

was crystal clear under the lights. "I barely had time to go through my mother's inheritance, and you already want me to hand it over on a silver platter? Samantha, Howard, you're even more shameless than I thought." A collective uproar erupted from the crowd. How did the inheritance document turn into a gift agreement? Samantha's face went deathly pale. She hadn't expected that I'd be able to uncover the contract she'd buried under layers of deception. But Howard's reaction was lightning fast.

The air in the room seemed to change, as though the shadows themselves were leaning in, listening. “But...” she continued, her voice taking on a more serious tone now, one that Julian couldn't ignore. It was like she was warning him, “It’s not going to be simple. You’ll inherit more than just wealth. There are people in place, people who’ve been operating in the shadows for years, who will test your authority, challenge your claim. And many of them? They won’t be thrilled about you taking control.” Her lips curled into a faint, bitter smile, but her eyes remained cold, calculating. “You’re not just inheriting an empire. You’re inheriting enemies.”

"When she died, she left everything to me. Not to her husband. Not to his illegitimate daughter. Not to his shameless mistress of a wife who's been spending my inheritance for the past fifteen years!" The silence is deafening now. Even the camera clicks have stopped. "So when Henry Blackwood announced that he was disinheriting me..." I throw my head back and laugh. The sound is rich, genuine, and absolutely terrifying in its complete lack of warmth. "He was announcing his intention to steal from me. To hand over my rightful inheritance to Natasha—the bastard spawn of his whore—and to Camilla herself, the calculating slut who destroyed my family the moment she spread her legs for a married ma

“And I deserve to inherit her properties. Including this house,” Margaret rolled her eyes. “You are not even a real daughter,” she said, her voice dripping with malice. “You are just a mistake, a product of my father's infidelity. You don't deserve anything,” My father, Jenkins, looked at me with a mixture of disappointment and disgusting “You fool, you need to understand that you are not in a position to be making demands,” he said. “You've brought shame to this family and you need to be grateful that we're even willing to take you back in,”

All of the other assets were easy to deal with, save for the manor my parents had left me. My great-grandfather had built that manor during his era, and it had been passed down generation by generation since then. It was one of the few manors which were kept in extremely good condition in Lexton City. To me, that manor held a lot of significance in terms of emotional value rather than its monetary value. I would never let anyone else have it no matter what. However, the lawyer also made it clear that I had inherited this manor when my marriage with Gwen was still legal and binding. According to the marital law, my in-laws and Edward possessed inheritance rights over the manor as well.

A conversation. With people I'd never met. With the versions of my family that existed before I did. With the particular thread of something that ran through all of us — Mama's precision, Grandpa William's warmth, the way Isabella sat with people without requiring anything of them — that nobody had planned and nobody could have stopped. Inheritance, Isabella had written in the margin of the autobiography. She'd shown me. We shared things like that. Not everything. But the important things. I'd written it in my journal the same night.