The Tuesday Grandson

The lawyer opened the envelope and every single grandchild in that mahogany room held their

breath. For three years they had been circling like vultures. Thanksgiving dinners

turned into strategic warfare. Christmas became a competition of who could pretend

to care the most. They brought gifts worth thousands, hired photographers to document their

visits, and some even quit their jobs to spend more time at the estate.

The mansion that once echoed with genuine laughter now felt like a corporate boardroom

where love was currency and inheritance was the only goal that mattered. Meanwhile,

little Marcus kept showing up on Tuesdays. Just Tuesdays. He never asked about the will.