I reread the paragraph twice. It’s strange to hear my grandpa talk about my mother so casually. The subject became taboo in my family until I could barely remember her face or her voice anymore.
I know I’ve been busy with work and that I didn’t spend as much time as I should’ve with you all. It was easy to blame the company for the physical and emotional distance in my relationships. When your mother died, I wasn’t sure what to do or how to help. With your father pushing me away, I devoted myself to my job until I became numb to everything else. It worked when my wife died and it worked when your mother met a similar passing, but I realize that it set your father up for failure. And in doing that, I failed you all as well. Instead of teaching Seth how to live a life after great loss, I showed him how to hold on to despair, and it only hurt you and your brothers in the end. Your father parented in the only way he knew how, and I’m the one to blame.
Of course Grandpa excuses my father’s actions. Grandpa was too busy to pay close enough attention to the real monster his son turned out to be.
As I write this, I’m living in Dreamland, trying to reconnect with myself. Something has been bothering me over the last couple of years and it didn’t click until I came here to reevaluate my life. I met someone who opened my eyes to my mistakes. As the company grew, I lost touch with why I started this all. I realized that I’ve been surrounded by so many happy people, yet I have never felt so alone in my life. And although my name is synonymous with the word “happiness,” I feel anything but.
An uncomfortable feeling claws at my chest, begging to be released. There was a dark time in my life when I could relate to his comment. But I shut that part of my brain off once I realized no one could save me but myself.
I shake my head and refocus my attention.
Growing old is a peculiar thing because it puts everything into perspective. This updated will is my way of making amends after my death and fixing my wrongs before it’s too late. I don’t want this life for you three. Hell, I don’t want it for your father either. So Grandpa is here to save the day, in true Dreamland prince fashion （or villain, but that’s going to depend on your perspective, not mine）。
You each have been given a task to complete to receive your percentage of the company after my death. Do you expect anything less from the man who writes fairy tales for a living? I can’t just GIVE you the company. So to you, Rowan, the dreamer who stopped dreaming, I ask you one thing…
Become the Director of Dreamland and bring the magic back.
To receive your 18% of the company, you’ll be expected to become the Director and spearhead a unique project for me for six months. I want you to identify Dreamland’s weaknesses and develop a renovation plan worthy of my legacy. I know you’re the right man for this job because there’s no one I trust who loves creating more than you, even though you lost touch with that side of yourself over the years.
I loved creating. Emphasis on the past tense because there’s no way I would draw again, let alone willingly work at Dreamland.
An independent party will be contacted and asked to vote on your changes. If they are not approved, then your percentage of the company will be given to your father permanently. No second tries. No buying him out. That’s the way the cookie crumbles, little lad. I had to work to make the Kane name what it is today, and it’s up to your brothers and you to make sure it lives on forever.
Love you always,
Grandpa
I stare at the ink until the words blur together. It’s difficult to concentrate on the lawyer when he discusses the splitting of assets. None of that matters now. These letters put every plan on standby.
Declan shows the lawyer out before returning to the living room.
“This is utter bullshit.” I swipe the whiskey bottle from the coffee table and fill my glass to the top.
“What do you have to do?” Declan takes a seat.