[ ] My Mother Brought Five Lawyers to Make Me Surrender Dad’s Estate She Had No Idea I Was Colonel Alyssa Prescott - Page 7 of 14 - The Archivist

My Mother Brought Five Lawyers to Make Me Surrender Dad’s Estate She Had No Idea I Was Colonel Alyssa Prescott

I know what you’re thinking. I’ve thought it a thousand times since.

Why didn’t I go out the back? Why didn’t I lock myself in the attic and wait for the sirens?

The honest answer is twelve years of Army training and three months of grief. Somebody was in my father’s house. The house where he died. And I wanted to see his face.

The second floor was dark. The main floor was dark.

Except for one light.

The study.

The door was half open. I could see the green glass lamp on my father’s desk.

I walked down the hallway without making a sound. I’d cleared a hundred buildings in Kandahar. I knew how to move through a house.

He was standing at my father’s desk with his back to me.

He was holding the blue ledger.

Arthur’s copy. The original was with the FBI. But Arthur had made a second one for himself, in case anything happened.

And now Robert had it.

“Hello, Alyssa,” he said without turning around. “I wondered when you’d figure it out.”

He turned. He looked exactly like the photograph. Older. Thinner. But unmistakably the same man.

My father’s face. Wearing a stranger’s life.

“Where’s Arthur?” I said.

“Somewhere quiet.” He set the ledger down on the desk carefully. “He’s alive, if that’s what you’re asking. For now. I needed to know who else he’d talked to.”

“You killed my father.”

“I did what was necessary.”

“He was your brother.”

“He was never my brother!”

His voice cracked across the room like a whip. For a second, the polished businessman was gone, and something raw and ugly looked out of his eyes.

“He was my competitor. My rival. From the day I was born, Gregory was the golden child. The smart one. The one Father took to the job sites. The one who got the company. The inheritance. Everything.”

He breathed hard.

“I got told to be more like Gregory. For thirty years. Be more like your brother.”

“So you faked your death.”

“I drove my car into the Pemigewasset River in 1994 and walked away. I built a new man from nothing. And I waited.”

Categories: Stories
Ethan Blake

Written by:Ethan Blake All posts by the author

Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience. Ethan holds a degree in Communications from Zurich University, where he developed his expertise in storytelling, media strategy, and audience engagement. Known for his ability to blend creativity with analytical precision, he excels at creating content that not only entertains but also connects deeply with readers. At TheArchivists, Ethan specializes in uncovering compelling stories that reflect a wide range of human experiences. His work is celebrated for its authenticity, creativity, and ability to spark meaningful conversations, earning him recognition among peers and readers alike. Passionate about the art of storytelling, Ethan enjoys exploring themes of culture, history, and personal growth, aiming to inspire and inform with every piece he creates. Dedicated to making a lasting impact, Ethan continues to push boundaries in the ever-evolving world of digital content.

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