Disclaimer: The following story contains themes related WMAF raceplay and slavery. If this offends you, do not read on. All content below is a fantasy.
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As I sat in the lawyers room with all my siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, I thought about all my mixed emotions. Strangely lacking in all of them was a sense of grief or sadness. Although my grandpa had just died, I had never been super close to him. The only time I really saw him was around Christmas on the annual family trip, the occasional wedding, or other major event. We hadn't been ever been that close, with the only real time my grandfather showing interest in my life being when asking about his adventures abroad during my gap year in the Peace Corp in China. But that was almost a decade ago now.
"Johnny, I am surprised you came back so soon. Those Japs not showing Americans the love the way they showed us when I was there?" He had asked when I returned. I, like most of my family had long ago stopped trying to convince Grandpa the "Jap" was a racist word. Let alone that Chinese and Japanese people were different.
"Your Grandpa was born in another time, John," my father always insisted.
But back to the lawyers room. What was I really feeling? Relief. That was the main thought going through my mind. Not that I wanted my Grandpa to die, but because now the family drama could end once and for all.
You see, Grandpa had... money. Like "Fuck you" money. No one really knew how much, but most guessed anywhere from 100 million to a billion dollars. Most of which was made during the rebuilding of Japan after WWII. Grandpa had stayed over there for a little while after the war. He took all his savings from his days in the army and bought up some bombed out apartment block in Tokyo, and as the housing market in Tokyo boomed decades later, Grandpa rode that wave. Most importantly, as he always bragged, he sold at the right time.
As Grandpa got older, all my aunts and uncles started getting passive aggressive. Always wanting to be on Grandpa's good side. Everyone just wanted to make sure that when he passed away they got their cut of the pie. And to be honest, I always thought it was disgusting. And I could see Grandpa hated it too. No wonder he spent so much time shut in at home. Now at least everyone can see what they got and move on with their lives.
"I have gone through Mr. White's latest will, and compiled a list of assets." The Lawyer began speaking solemnly but professionally. "First and foremost, I will begin with Mr. White's Mountain Estate located here in Montana. Mr. White's will is very clear that the property, including the main house, it's contents, and all 2560 acres surrounding it, are to be inherited by his grandson, Master John White. Along with a Trust fund of 20 million dollars to help maintain the estate."
All eyes turned to me. Me? Why Me? I never even liked Grandpa's mountain home. Sure, it had stunning views of the valley and mountains, but it was in the middle of fucking nowhere.
Stunned, I stared around me at all my relatives looking at me. Some equally stunned, some confused, and almost all with daggers in their eyes.
The lawyer continued, "Along with the estate, Mr. White enclosed this letter for you John, with explicit instructions for it to be read by only you. Even I have not read it. It is to be read when you are alone and will have time to process this all. But he also stated it was important for you to read it as soon as possible."
The lawyer handed me the letter and then continued reading the will and all its parts. Everyone got something of course. Grandpa wasn't spiteful. But as the lawyer rambled on about the percentages and dollar values for each relative, all I could think about was what was in the letter? Would it explain why Grandpa chose me? Would it tell me why he thought I would want a mansion in the mountains instead of, you know, money? All I could think is that of all the grandkids, I was the only one still single. My older cousins all had kids of their own.
As soon as the meeting with the lawyer was over, I excused myself to retreat to my hotel room. I had to get out of there before my aunts and uncles started talking about all of it as if I was somehow guilty.
It was a brisk spring day in Bozeman, Montana. I had flown from my job in Los Angeles where it was MUCH warmer. Montana! Why would I want a home here? Montana was so boring.
And Grandpa, in his politically incorrect way, had been right about one thing, the women in China had been very... welcoming. Fine, I'll say it. They were downright easy. I don't like the word Yellow Fever. It seems too fetishy. But I had developed an appreciation for Asian women. Short, slim, straight black hair, and a bit submissive. What was not to like? And living in LA was great. I could date around. I didn't exclusively sleep with Asian women, but I did prefer them. But Montana? All white people... Why would I move here?
"Wait up, John!" I heard my cousin Eric shout at me on the street. Eric lived in NYC, and like my grandpa, I didn't see much of him. However, unlike with Grandpa, we got along. He was a year older than me, and unlike everyone else in our dysfunctional family, he didn't spend every waking hour of family gathering kissing Grandpa's ass and bickering with others.
"That was some bombshell, huh?" Eric continued, panting from running to catch up with me. "Did you have any idea that was going to happen?"
"Not a clue." I responded honestly. "Sorry. I was pretty stunned during that whole meeting. What did he leave you?"
"Twenty percent of his ownership of the real estate company. Worth a couple million dollars according to the lawyer." Eric said, fairly disinterested. "I figure I will sell the shares and use the money to buy an apartment in New York. But hey, what do you think is in that letter? No one else got a personal letter."
I liked Eric because I could tell he didn't have an ulterior motive. He had his job as an investment banker. He was married to a nice girl from a well off family, and didn't care about the money. Or rather, he so was off that he wasn't worried about money.
"I have no idea what is in it. I was heading back to the hotel to read it and hope it can help me wrap my head around all this." I responded.
"You want me around when you read it?" Eric asked.
"No, it said to read it alone. If that is Grandpa's final wish from me, I better honor it." I replied.
Eric seemed to respect that, and we walked back to the hotel in relative silence.
After getting to my room, I plopped down on the sofa, and looked out the window at the mountains. Montana. Fucking Montana... Why didn't Grandpa have a house in Malibu? That I could work with. Maybe Eric had the right idea. I could just sell the property and use it to buy a place in LA. But would that be disrespectful? All my relatives would for sure talk shit behind my back. Not that I cared. But surely Grandpa had left it to me for a reason. Which brought my attention back to the letter I was holding.
I guessed now was as good a time as any to find out what Grandpa has to say. I thought to myself.
I flipped the envelope over in my hand a few times looking at it. The only marking on it was "John" written in Grandpa's writing on the front. It felt thick. Like there were at least 5 pages of paper folded up inside. What would be so important that Grandpa had to wait until he died and tell me in a letter? After giving me his mansion and estate?
"Here goes nothing," I thought as I opened the letter. There was one page on top by itself, and then at about 6 more with a wax seal with Grandpa's initials on it. So old fashioned, just like Grandpa. I unfolded the first page and began reading. The first paragraph began:
Dear John,
