The underestimated heir

Fifty billion reasons

Gabriel sat on the worn-out couch in Maya's tiny apartment, staring at the peeling paint on the ceiling. The place was barely bigger than a closet. One small bedroom, a bathroom that leaked, and a living area that doubled as a kitMorrison. The furniture was old and broken down. The carpet had stains that would never come out. But it was all Maya could afford with her part-time job at the campus bookstore.

Maya came out of the bedroom carrying a blanket and pillow. She was nineteen now, tall and thin with the same dark hair as Gabriel. Her eyes were red from crying.

"Here," she said softly, setting the bedding on the couch. "I'm sorry it's not much."

"It's perfect," Gabriel lied, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The bruise on his face had faded to a yellowish green, making him look sickly in the dim light.

"I still can't believe Seraphina did that," Maya said, sitting down next to him. "After everything you did for her family. After three years of marriage."

"It's okay," Gabriel said, though his chest felt tight. "It was never a real marriage anyway."

"But now I have to drop out of school," Maya said, her voice breaking. "Without the Morrison family paying my tuition, I can't afford to stay. And you lost your place to live because of me."

"Hey," Gabriel said firmly, taking her hand. "None of this is your fault. Don't ever think that."

"But if you didn't have to take care of me, you could have walked away from that family years ago. You stayed because they were paying for my education."

Gabriel squeezed her hand. "I stayed because I made a promise to Grandmother Abigail. And because I hoped things might get better. I was stupid, but that's on me, not you."

Maya wiped her eyes. "What are we going to do? I only have enough money for rent and food for maybe two more months. After that..."

She didn't finish the sentence. They both knew what came after that. Homelessness. Hunger. All the things they'd barely escaped after their parents died.

"We'll figure something out," Gabriel said, trying to sound confident. "I always do."

But inside, he felt hollow. The bank account Abigail had left him was supposed to be accessed in person, but he hadn't had time yet. Between signing divorce papers and moving his few belongings to Maya's apartment, the past three days had been a blur of humiliation and exhaustion.

And he didn't expect it to be much anyway. 

"You should sleep," Gabriel said. "You have class tomorrow."

"I'm dropping out," Maya reminded him sadly. "There's no point going to class if I can't pay tuition next semester."

"Just go anyway," Gabriel said. "Please. For me. We'll worry about tuition when the time comes."

Maya nodded reluctantly and headed to her bedroom. Gabriel heard the door close softly.

He lay down on the couch, which was too short for his height. His feet hung off the end. A spring poked into his back. The apartment was cold because they couldn't afford to run the heater much.

Gabriel stared at the ceiling and thought about how spectacularly his life had fallen apart. Four days ago, he'd been humiliated at his wife's birthday party. Three days ago, he learned about his inheritance. Two days ago, he'd signed divorce papers and the inheritance got taken away from him. Yesterday, he'd moved into this apartment with nothing but two bags of clothes and a broken heart.

And now he was unemployed, nearly broke, and responsible for his sister's future with no idea how to provide for her.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table. Gabriel picked it up, expecting maybe a spam call. Instead, he saw a notification from First National Bank.

"Account Alert: Recent Activity on Account ****5566"

Gabriel frowned. That was the account number Mr. Wright had mentioned. The sealed account Abigail had left him. But he hadn't accessed it yet. How could there be activity?

He opened the banking app he'd downloaded earlier and entered the account information Mr. Wright had given him. His fingers shook slightly as he typed in the temporary password.

The app is loaded. Gabriel held his breath.

Then the screen displayed his account balance, and Gabriel's heart stopped.

Fifty billion dollars.

Gabriel blinked. He must be reading it wrong. He looked again.

Fifty billion dollars.

His hands started shaking so badly he almost dropped the phone. Fifty billion. That couldn't be real. It had to be a mistake. Maybe the decimal point was in the wrong place. Maybe it was actually five hundred dollars or five thousand.

But no. The numbers were clear. $50,000,000,000.00.

Gabriel sat up so fast he got dizzy. He read the number again and again, counting the zeros. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, ten. Ten zeros.

Fifty billion dollars.

Grandmother Abigail had left him Fifty billion dollars.

But that wasn't all. As Gabriel scrolled through the account details, he saw something else. A message from the bank dated today.

"Congratulations! Your investment portfolio has generated significant returns. New balance reflects successful trades completed automatically per account settings."

Investment portfolio? Automatic trades?

Gabriel clicked on the portfolio section. His eyes widened as he saw lists of stocks, bonds, and cryptocurrency investments. All of them showing massive green numbers. Gains. Profits. Money multiplying.

According to the app, the account had started with twenty million dollars six months ago, right after Abigail's death. But she'd set up something called an "AI-assisted trading system" that had been automatically buying and selling investments based on market analysis.

In six months, that twenty million had grown to Fifty billion.

And it was still growing.

As Gabriel watched, a notification popped up. "Trade completed: Tech Corp shares sold at 47% profit. Gain: $234,000."

Gabriel's brain couldn't process what he was seeing. In the time it took him to read that notification, he'd made more money than most people earned in five years.

Another notification. "Trade completed: Crypto purchase successful. Projected 30-day return: 15%."

This was insane. This couldn't be real.

But it was.

Gabriel jumped up from the couch and paced the small living room. His heart was racing. His mind was spinning. Fifty billion dollars. Fifty billion dollars. He kept repeating it in his head, but it didn't feel real.

He pulled up his recent transaction history. The account had been making trades constantly, every single day, sometimes dozens per day. Small trades, big trades, stocks, bonds, foreign currency, cryptocurrency, commodities. The AI system Abigail had set up was like having a genius investor working twenty four hours a day.

And according to the performance charts, it was only getting better. The system learned from each trade, adjusted its strategies, and kept finding new ways to make money.

Gabriel looked at the growth projection. If the system continued at its current rate, he'd have over one hundred million dollars within a year.

One hundred million dollars.

His legs felt weak. He sat back down on the couch, still staring at his phone.

Why had Abigail done this? Why had she set up this elaborate system? And why had she waited to tell him about it?

Then Gabriel remembered something Mr. Wright had said. The account was sealed until Gabriel accessed it personally. Abigail must have known that he wouldn't check it right away. She must have wanted the money to grow first, to multiply, so that when Gabriel finally looked, he'd have enough to never worry about money again.

She'd planned this. All of it. She'd known her family would turn on him after she died. She'd known Seraphina would probably ask for a divorce. She'd known Gabriel would end up with nothing.

So she'd made sure he'd have everything.

Gabriel felt tears burn in his eyes. "Thank you, Grandmother," he whispered to the empty room.

A sound from the bedroom made him look up. Maya's door opened a crack.

"Gabriel?" she called out sleepily. "Are you okay? I heard you moving around."

Gabriel quickly wiped his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

"Okay," Maya said, but she didn't close the door. "Gabriel? We're going to be okay, right?"

Gabriel looked at his phone, at the number that still didn't feel real, at the future that had just completely changed.

"Yeah," he said, and this time he meant it. "We're going to be better than okay."