Winston stared down at the piece of paper on his desk like it was an empty google doc with a blinking cursor.

The ticking of a large wooden clock on his large wooden desk pulsed with the beat of his aging heart.

Winston read the words at the top of the piece of paper again: I, Winston Clarke, residing at the Clarke Estates, declare this to be my will, and I revoke any and all wills and codicils I previously made.

I give all my tangible personal property and all policies and proceeds of insurance covering such property to my son, Trent Clarke. If he does not…

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I give my title and the rights and stocks of my company, WPR INC., to… Blank spaces filled the rest of the page.

Winston reached for his cane, propped against his desk, and rose on rickety knees. He took heavy steps to the window, toward the sound of children laughing.

A small smile curled the lips under his thick and bushy mustache as he watched the children through the pane, and when eventually one noticed his attention, the other two noticed, and Winston offered a huff of amusement and a wave when the two boys started calling for him.

“Grandpa! Grandpa! We want to give you something!”

The third child, a little girl, fluttered her fingers in greeting but remained silent.