The Last Inheritance

Elias Kane scrubbed the marble floor of Voss Tower, Chicago’s glitziest skyscraper, owned by his wife’s family. His mop sloshed in the bucket, the squeak of its wheels loud in the empty lobby. The bright lights glared off the glass walls, making his faded janitor jumpsuit look shabbier. “Janitor” was stitched in red on his chest, a badge of shame. 

At 29, Elias’s back ached from hours of cleaning—especially the soda stain Mara’s brother, Trent, had dumped that morning, laughing, “Hop to it, scrub.” Elias’s hands tightened on the mop. Three years ago, he’d drained his bank account to save Mara’s family from ruin. Now, they treated him like trash.

The elevator dinged. Carla, Mara’s assistant, strutted out, her heels stabbing the floor. Her blonde ponytail swung, her smirk made it clear she wasn’t here to play nice. She slapped a manila envelope on a glass table. “Elias,” she snapped, “Mara’s cutting you loose. Sign these.” Divorce papers. Elias’s stomach dropped, the mop slipping in his grip. His mouth went dry. “What?” he croaked, his heart pounding in his chest. Carla let out a sharp scoff. “You’re a janitor, Elias. Mara’s a billionaire, running Voss Real Estate. You’re a smudge on her shine.” She tossed a pen at him. “Sign, and you get a condo, a car, five million bucks. Vanish quietly.”

Elias’s chest burned. Five million? He’d worked double shifts, bartending nights, to bail out Mara’s family when their company tanked. “I saved them,” he said, his voice shaking. “Mara knows that.” Carla laughed, coldly. 

“Saved? You’re a nobody. Mara built this empire. You’re holding her back.” She leaned in, eyes glinting. “She’s dining with Victor Dray tonight a tech king, real power. You’re a joke.” Elias’s fists balled, but he kept still. “I’m not signing till Mara tells me herself,” he said, staring her down.

Carla’s smirk vanished. She tapped her phone and muttered, “Fine, you’re wasting her time.”

Elias didn’t move. The mop hung forgotten in his hand. His thoughts spun.

Mara—his Mara—the same girl who kissed him under a Chicago streetlight three years ago. Today was their anniversary.

How’d it come to this? 

He looked down at the silver ring on his finger. It had belonged to his mom, the only thing she left behind before she died when he was ten.

His one anchor in all this chaos.

The elevator dinged again.

Mara Voss stepped out, stunning in a sleek black suit, her auburn hair twisted into a tight knot. At twenty-eight, she walked like she ruled everything around her, her green eyes cold and unblinking.

Elias’s breath hitched—just like the day he married her.

“Elias,” she said, her voice flat. “This ends now.”

She held out her hand.

“The ring.”

His mother’s ring.

Elias’s chest tightened.

“Mara,” he said, moving toward her. “Why? I gave you everything.”

Her eyes flicked away, just for a second, then locked back on him.

“You’re not enough anymore. I need power. Status.”

She paused. “You’re… nothing.”

Her words landed like a slap.

Elias’s voice broke. “Nothing? I worked myself into the ground for your family. I paid off your dad’s debts. I held you together.”

Mara’s lips tightened into a thin line. “That was then,” she said calmly. “I’ve outgrown you. You’re holding me back.”

She nodded toward the papers. “Sign them, Elias. Take the money and leave.”

Carla snorted, arms crossed. “Don’t beg, janitor. It’s pathetic.”

Elias didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed locked on Mara.

“You owe me the truth,” he said quietly. “Why now? Why today?”

Mara’s hand twitched, but her face stayed stone. “Today’s just a day,” she lied, and Elias caught it—their anniversary wasn’t nothing. 

“You’re leaving me for Dray, aren’t you?” he pressed, voice rising. “Some tech hotshot?” Carla cut in, “Victor Dray’s a king. You’re a mop-pusher.” Mara shot Carla a look, then faced Elias. “Victor’s the future,” she said. “You’re the past. Sign, or you get nothing.” Elias’s throat tightened. He saw Trent’s soda stain in his mind, Carla’s sneers, the years of their scorn. And now Mara, his wife, gutting him.

The lobby doors swished open. Trent Voss, Mara’s brother, swaggered in, blonde hair slicked back, his suit screaming money. Behind him came Vivian, Mara’s mother, draped in a fur coat, her face pinched with disgust. “What’s this hold-up?” Vivian snapped, glaring at Elias. “Still leeching, boy?” Trent laughed, loud and mean. “Look at him, Ma. Janitor trash, begging for scraps.” Elias’s face burned, but he remained silent. “I’m not begging,” he said, voice low. “I want answers.”

Vivian snorted. “Answers? You’re a parasite. Mara’s flying high, and you’re dirt under her heel.” Trent stepped close, jabbing a finger at Elias. “Sign the damn papers, or I’ll make you.” Elias’s fists clenched, the ring biting into his palm. “Back off, Trent,” he warned. 

Trent grinned, cruel. “Or what, scrub? You’ll mop me?” Carla cackled, and Vivian shook her head. “Pathetic,” she muttered. Mara stayed silent, watching, her eyes unreadable.

Elias turned to her, voice raw. “Mara, remember when we started? You had nothing. I sold my car, worked nights, kept your family alive. And now you ditch me?” Mara’s jaw tightened. “Don’t guilt trip me,” she said. “I earned this. You’re a shadow, Elias.” 

He laughed, bitter. “A shadow? I carried you.” Trent lunged forward, shoving Elias’s shoulder. “Watch your mouth, loser!” Elias staggered but caught himself, glaring. “Touch me again,” he said, “and you’ll regret it.” Vivian gasped, theatrical. “Threats? From a janitor?”

Mara raised a hand, silencing them. “Enough,” she said. “Elias, this is done. Sign, or I’ll drag you through court. No money, no mercy.” Elias stared at her, searching for the woman who’d loved him. She was gone, replaced by this cold queen. “You’re making a mistake,” he said, softly but sure. “You’ll see.” He grabbed the pen, his hand shaking, and scrawled his name on the papers. The scratch of ink felt like a knife in his gut. He slid the ring off, setting it on the table. “Take it,” he said, voice breaking. “It’s yours now.”

Mara reached for the ring, her fingers brushing his. A flicker crossed her face—pain, maybe regret—but it vanished. She pocketed the ring, turning away. “Leave, Elias,” she said, heading for the elevator. Trent smirked, clapping slowly. “Good riddance, scrub.” Vivian sniffed, “Don’t come crawling back.” Carla just watched, smug. Elias grabbed his mop, the bucket rattling as he shoved it aside. He walked out, the lobby’s lights fading behind him.

Outside, Elias stood beneath the looming shadow of Voss Tower, his breath rising in pale clouds. The weight of the divorce papers clung to him, even without them in his hands. His finger felt strange and bare—his mother’s ring gone. Her last gift, just like everything else he’d given Mara: his money, his pride, his heart. And she’d thrown him away without a second thought.

Back in Voss Tower, Mara sat in her top-floor office, the city’s skyline glittering beyond her window. The divorce papers lay on her desk, Elias’s signature jagged across the bottom. She pulled the silver ring from her pocket, turning it in her fingers. 

A memory slipped in Elias fixing her old car in the rain, grinning like a kid. “Happy anniversary,” he’d said then, slipping the ring on her finger. Her chest tightened. She’d won, hadn’t she? Victor Dray’s deal was tomorrow, her empire growing. So why did her office feel so empty?