My Daughter Said I’d Get NOTHING From My Ex-Husband’s $220M Will — Lawyer: She Gets $25, You Inhe…
He opened the portfolio. Inside were thick, cream-colored documents: Richard’s last will and testament.
“Richard was very specific about how he wanted this handled. He updated this will six months ago, shortly after his doctors gave him the terminal diagnosis.”
My heart clenched. Terminal. I hadn’t known.
“He wanted you both present for the reading. No exceptions. It was important to him that you hear this together.”
James continued. Sarah’s jaw tightened, but she nodded.
James put on his reading glasses and began.
“I, Richard Maxwell Thornton, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament.”
The formal language rolled on: revoking previous wills, appointing James as executor, confirming no outstanding debts.
Standard legal boilerplate. Sarah’s foot tapped impatiently under the table.
The $25 Insult
Then James reached the bequests.
“To my daughter, Sarah Catherine Thornton, I leave the following: the penthouse apartment at 432 Park Avenue, including all furnishings and contents.”
Sarah’s lips curved into a small smile. The penthouse was worth at least $12 million. Prime Manhattan real estate.
James continued reading.
“I also leave her my shares in Thornton Financial Services.”
Sarah sat up straighter. The company—that was the real prize.
70% of a firm that now managed $3 billion in assets. She’d finally have what she’d always wanted: control of her father’s legacy.
But James wasn’t finished.
“However, these bequests come with certain conditions and revelations that Sarah must understand.”
He read, his voice careful. Sarah frowned.
“Conditions?”
“Let me continue.”
James turned the page.
“The penthouse carries a $2 million reverse mortgage I took out last year for medical expenses. The apartment is effectively underwater. Sarah may keep it if she assumes the debt, or sell it and receive nothing.”
The smile disappeared from Sarah’s face.
“What?”
“The company shares are more complicated.”
James’s voice remained steady.
“While Sarah will inherit 70% ownership, she should know that Thornton Financial Services currently faces three pending lawsuits totaling $48 million. Additionally, I made a series of high-risk investments in the past two years that have left the company’s cash reserves depleted.”
“The business is solvent, but barely. It will require significant capital injection and at least five years of careful management to return to profitability.”
Sarah had gone pale.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m afraid not. Your father was quite clear about disclosing these facts.”
James looked down at the will.
“He wrote, and I quote: ‘I want Sarah to understand that the empire she thinks she’s inheriting is built on sand. Success isn’t just about the corner office and the nameplate; it’s about the hard work, the sacrifice, the integrity that got you there.'”
“This is insane. He’s punishing me from beyond the grave.”
Sarah said.
“He’s teaching you. Or trying to.”
James replied quietly.
Sarah’s hands clenched into fists on the table. She looked like she wanted to tear the will apart, but she remained silent, seething.
“Now,”
James said, turning another page.
“To Margaret Anne Thornton, my former wife.”
I braced myself. Here it came.
The final insult. The public humiliation. Richard’s last revenge for the crime everyone thought I’d committed.
“I leave the sum of $25.”
Sarah barked out a laugh. It was harsh, ugly.
“Twenty-five dollars. That’s perfect. That’s what you deserve, Margaret. Not even enough for a decent dinner.”
I said nothing. What was there to say?
I’d expected nothing. $25 was more than I’d hoped for.
“That’s rather generous considering you stole millions.”
Sarah continued, her voice dripping with venom.
“I suppose Dad felt obligated to acknowledge you existed, but barely.”
She leaned back in her chair, satisfaction evident on her face despite the bombshells about her inheritance.
At least I’d gotten less. At least she could enjoy that.
The $220 Million Revelation
But James was turning another page, and then another.
“If we’re finished with the initial bequests, I’ll move on to the remainder of the estate.”
He said, his voice taking on a different quality.
“There’s more?”
Sarah asked, confused.
“Oh yes.”
James looked up, his eyes finding mine.
“Quite a bit more.”
He cleared his throat and continued reading.
“To Margaret, I additionally leave the following: my home in Greenwich, Connecticut, valued at $18 million; my vacation property in Nantucket, valued at $7 million; my collection of vintage automobiles, valued at approximately $3 million; my art collection housed in storage, valued at $12 million.”
The room had gone silent except for James’s voice. Sarah stared at him like he’d started speaking in tongues.
“I leave her my remaining shares in Thornton Financial Services: 30% ownership. I leave her my investment portfolio, including stocks, bonds, and real estate holdings, valued at approximately $142 million.”
“I leave her my personal accounts containing $28 million. All told, I leave Margaret approximately $220 million in liquid and fixed assets.”
Sarah’s face had drained of all color. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
“Additionally,”
James continued.
“I have established a trust that will pay Margaret $5 million annually for the rest of her life, adjusted for inflation.”
“No. No, this is wrong. This is—he was senile. He wasn’t in his right mind. I’ll contest it. I’ll—”
Sarah whispered.
“He was perfectly lucid.”
James interrupted firmly.
