At my dad’s funeral, my brother said, «She’s just here for the money — dad’s going to cut her off.» Everyone watched the lawyer enter, holding a USB. My dad’s face appeared on the screen and said three words…

Trying to keep the tears. From falling. But they were already there.

Hot. Fast. Silent.

I watched you from a distance. He continued. Gerald told me how you were doing.

About the library. About Caleb. Said he was a bright one.

Said he looks at the world the way you do. With patience. He smiled then.

A small, tired smile. And it broke me. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Rachel.

But if I can leave you with anything. Let it be this. I was wrong.

You were right. You did what I should have done a long time ago. You protected your child.

You walked away from pain. And you built something better. He drew in a shaky breath.

I don’t want to be remembered as the man who turned his back on his daughter. So I’ve changed the will. They don’t know yet.

But they will. Gasps fluttered around the room like startled birds. Someone cursed under their breath.

Lindsay shifted sharply in her seat. Mark’s jaw tensed. I barely heard them.

All I ever wanted was to be proud of my children, my father said. And I am. Of you.

Of the woman you became when I wasn’t looking. The screen dimmed for a moment. Then lit back up with his final words.

Tell Caleb thank you. For giving me one last chance to be a father, even if it was from a distance. Then, everything went black.

Silence fell, thicker than grief. No one dared to speak. But for the first time in ten years, I heard my father loud and clear.

The screen had barely gone dark when the murmurs began. Confusion. Anger.

Denial. Mr. Dawson didn’t wait for silence. He adjusted his glasses, opened the leather folder on his lap, and said, The video was to provide context.

Now, per Mr. Moore’s revised, notarized, and legally binding last will and testament, I will read the final allocations. Lindsay let out a sharp breath through her nose, like she was preparing for war. Mark folded his arms across his chest, and leaned back, smug again, like the video meant nothing.

To my daughter, Rachel Elaine Moore, Dawson began, his voice steady, formal. I leave the Charleston family residence, its contents, and surrounding land in full. I felt the room turn toward me, neck snapping, disbelief flashing behind every set of eyes.

My hands were frozen in my lap, Caleb’s still tucked inside mine. In addition, Dawson continued, I leave to Rachel Moore the sum of two hundred, and fifty thousand dollars in liquid assets, and all remaining balances in my retirement savings. The air shifted…