I Inherited Trillions, Now What?

The cabin lights dimmed as the first-class passengers began disembarking, their quiet footsteps echoing against the luxurious carpet. At the forefront, a woman in her late twenties rose gracefully, her tailored navy-blue suit accentuating her sharp silhouette. Her fitted blazer hugged her frame, paired seamlessly with a matching pencil skirt that ended just above her knees. The gleaming red soles of her Louboutins clicked softly as she adjusted the strap of her leather handbag over her shoulder.

Her long, dark hair was neatly pinned into a sleek chignon, revealing a striking face with high cheekbones, almond-shaped hazel eyes, and lips painted in a deep shade of crimson. There was an air of calculated confidence about her—a demeanor that turned heads but demanded no acknowledgment.

She descended the steps onto the private tarmac at JFK International Airport, the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue on her flawless complexion. A sleek black SUV was stationed at the far end of the runway, its tinted windows concealing the interior. As she approached, the driver, dressed in an immaculate black suit, stepped out and opened the back door without a word. She slid inside effortlessly, her gaze already fixed on her phone.

The car purred to life, gliding away from the airport toward the city. She scrolled through articles, graphs, and data streams, all centered on the world of cutting-edge technology. Headlines flashed across her screen: "Market Giants Reshape Industry Standards," "Top Performers of the Quarter," and "The Rise of AI Dominance." Her focus was unwavering, her thumb scrolling with practiced efficiency.

The SUV weaved through Manhattan's bustling streets before heading west, where it approached a private dock. Towering warehouses lined the area, but this one was different—polished, secure, and heavily guarded. The gates slid open as the vehicle approached, revealing a sleek helicopter waiting on the helipad.

As the driver opened her door, a uniformed security guard stepped forward, scanning her badge. "Welcome, Miss Evelyn Hawthorne," he said, giving her a polite nod.

Evelyn didn't respond, merely offering a faint smile as she made her way to the helicopter. The rotor blades began to whir, sending a gust of wind through her hair as she ducked inside. The cabin was opulent, fitted with plush leather seats and dark walnut accents. She strapped in, pulling her phone out once more as the pilot greeted her.

"We'll be touching down on Blackwell Island in 15 minutes, Miss Hawthorne," he informed her over the headset.

"Thank you," she replied curtly, her voice smooth yet commanding.

The helicopter soared over the city, leaving the chaos of New York behind. The skyline shrank in the distance, replaced by the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. Soon, a private island emerged on the horizon, its pristine beaches glistening in the sunlight. At the island's center stood a sprawling estate, its architecture a fusion of modern innovation and timeless elegance.

As the helicopter descended onto the island's private helipad, Evelyn took a moment to compose herself. She stepped out, her heels clicking against the sleek surface of the landing pad. Awaiting her was a distinguished figure: an older man dressed in a perfectly tailored suit with silver hair slicked back and a demeanor of quiet authority.

"Welcome back, Miss Hawthorne," he said warmly.

"Thank you, Sebastian," she replied, her tone softening.

Sebastian offered a slight bow before gesturing toward a sleek electric cart waiting nearby. "Master Alexander is expecting you in his office. Shall we?"

She nodded and followed him, the hum of the cart cutting through the serene island air. As they drove, the lush landscape unfolded around them: manicured gardens lined with exotic flora, a series of infinity pools reflecting the azure sky, and marble pathways leading to secluded terraces.

"I apologize for not being here during everything," Evelyn said after a moment. Her voice carried a hint of regret, but her expression remained composed.

Sebastian shook his head. "It's quite all right, Miss. You had pressing matters to attend to on the other side of the world. Business is business."

She glanced at him. "How has he been?"

Sebastian hesitated before answering. "Angry. Understandably so. It's been… a turbulent time."

Evelyn sighed but said nothing more.

The cart came to a stop at the estate's grand entrance. The towering glass doors slid open, revealing an opulent interior of polished marble floors, intricate chandeliers, and walls adorned with abstract art pieces. They walked through the expansive foyer, their steps echoing softly.

As they approached the double doors leading to Alexander Blackwell's office, Sebastian paused. "It's good to have you back," he said, his eyes softening.

Evelyn turned to him, her lips curving into a rare smile. "Thanks, Dad. It's good to be back."

She knocked lightly on the door, waiting for the familiar voice to respond.

"Enter."

Pushing the doors open, Evelyn stepped inside. The office was vast yet minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the ocean. The room was dominated by a sleek black desk, behind which sat Alexander Blackwell.

He looked up briefly, his piercing gaze meeting hers. At 31, Alexander exuded a commanding presence. Dressed in a black suit with an open-collared shirt, his sharp features and meticulously groomed beard only added to his air of authority. His eyes, a deep black, reflected both intelligence and intensity.

"Congratulations, sir," Evelyn began, her voice steady. "I heard you won the case."

Alexander didn't respond immediately. Instead, he handed her a file without a word, his expression unreadable.

Evelyn took the file and opened it, her brow furrowing as she scanned the contents.