I first saw his death in the newspaper: THE WORLD’S 5TH RICHEST BILLIONAIRE HAS PASSED! WHO WILL BE THE NEXT DOLCE INHERITOR?” was the headline. I never bothered to read the article; these people have more money than sense and it never has interested me to read about a life that has no relevance to my own. My eyes fell to the poster opposite me: ‘Pay it Forward’, it read. I thought of my father, Ethan Crass. That was his favourite saying; he lived by it. It’s the idea that when you complete a good deed for someone you wish for nothing in return, except for them to pass it on and in turn do a good thing for someone else. I pulled my thoughts back to the present, threw the newspaper on the floor, and left the house. Little did I know I would later read every inch of that article; an article that would then have every relevance to my life.
I am sitting in a hot, stuffy classroom when I get called into the office. “Probably just another routine check-in with me,” I think. However, as I enter the principal’s office, it becomes apparent very quickly that I am wrong. Along with the principal, there are three other people in the room. Two men dressed in suits, one in navy and the other grey, and a woman whose perfume is so strong it makes me dizzy. Or maybe it’s what she says next. “A man named Benjamin Dolce has died.” The headline flashes before my eyes. “You been requested to attend the reading of his will. Does this mean anything to you?” I stare at the man in the grey suit as if he can somehow give me the answer. He does not. “No,” I finally manage. “Well, it’s clear that you must be there. We will arrange a flight for you.” I stop listening after that, overcome with the thoughts in my head. A flight? A flight to where? I have never been out of Seattle, let alone on a plane. A voice brings me back to reality. “Lily?” It’s the principal. He speaks gently, as if he can somehow tell there is a hurricane happening in my head. “We have notified your mother but do you want her to bring anything from home?” I say only two words: “a newspaper”.
As we touch down in South Carolina hours later I have read the article approximately 42 times, along with having had a short nap that was interrupted by various dreams, all centred around the character Benjamin Dolce. As we step off the plane, I no longer feel a part of myself. It’s as if I’m watching my body from above. I get into the waiting car; it’s a black limousine. We drive. I look out of the window; it’s getting dark now. We’re in the countryside. And finally, we turn to go through a set of gates. I look at my mother’s hand placing itself in mine, but I don’t feel it. I can only hear, see and think one thought. What is my place in all of this? One knock on this door in front of me and I’ll find out.
Massive would be an understatement for this house. I have never seen anything like it before. It’s quiet too; eerily quiet. “Come with me,” the man in the grey suit says. He’s the only person that has remained with me the whole time apart from my mother and I have learned that his name is James. He does not wait for me to answer and so I follow, slightly scared to be left in a house that I’m sure could very quickly become a maze. James takes my mother and me to a hallway with pictures lining the walls. He stops outside a room. “You can sleep in here,” he says and leaves. The room is beautiful, with high ceilings and big windows, not to mention the intricate artwork decorating the place. I immediately collapse onto the bed, my mind and body exhausted from the day.
I don’t meet Benjamin’s family until the reading of the will the following day. We’re all sitting in a large room awaiting our fate as a man at the front begins unravelling a sheet of paper. It seems to take forever. A woman, I’m assuming Benjamin’s daughter Gabriella, is pacing the floor. His sons, Alexander and Marco, sit in two armchairs, the in-laws and children sitting behind them. I’m sitting alone: my mother wasn’t allowed in with me. The man clears his throat. “We are gathered here today for the reading of the will of the late Benjamin Alexander Dolce.” He looks at all of us in turn, his eyes lingering on me for a moment, and continues. “I leave my work and business to my three children, along with $1 billion for each of my grandchildren.” Gabriella turns to look at her brothers, shocked but not quite angry. “However, my estate, assets and entire fortune I leave to Lillian Crass. She will inherit $46.8 billion.”
When I was younger I fell out of a tree. It was at such a height that everything was muffled and the world was spinning. It felt as though I was underwater, not knowing which way to go to break the surface. I feel the same way right now, except 20 people are either staring at me or shouting about the mistake that has been made. All I can do is sit there, staring, wondering, trying to break the surface.
I am the last person in the room. Everybody else left, either sulking or still shouting about the unfairness of it all. The man stops me before I leave. “I’m to give you this. It might explain some things.” He hands me an envelope. “Read it alone,” he says. I thank him and go. I decide to go outside: the gardens stretch for miles so I can be sure no one will find me. I sit down at the base of a giant tree. The grass is soft and I am bathed in the morning sunlight. Daisies and daffodils dance around me in the soft breeze. I stare at the envelope. My hands shake as I tear it open, ready to know the truth.
Dear Lillian,
You don’t know me, but I feel as if I know you. These past years I have kept an eye on you, waiting for the perfect opportunity to give you everything. Your life has inspired a lot of mine. More specifically, your father. I have thought a lot about you reading this letter, about what I would say. About your emotions, as you hear the news of the money I have left you. And so I think it’s only fair that I should start from the beginning.
At 23 years old, I was alone here. Having recently moved from a tiny village in northern Italy, I knew nothing and nobody. But I had an idea, a brilliant idea that would be the spark of everything I have today. After my request for a loan was rejected by countless banks I was tired and frustrated. And so, when I went for an appointment at the bank your father worked at, I was feeling hopeless. As a young man, I was not used to rejection, and the fight in me had started to go out. I had no collateral, no reason for them to grant me this money except for my pure genius, which unfortunately most people didn’t accept. Except for your father. Ethan Crass saw my potential and fought for me: he got me my loan. He’s the reason why I am who I am today. I asked him how I could ever repay him, how I could ever express the amount of gratitude I have for this man. But he told me he didn’t want anything; all he wanted was for me to pay it forward. Nobody knows this Lily, but I dedicated my life to searching for a way to pay it forward. But I never could find one that would leave me satisfied; not one deed that I could be sure was going to help someone as selfless as the man who gave it to me. To someone who I knew would carry the torch on. I’ve failed, Lily. I’ve failed your father. And so, I have to cheat the system. I am paying it back, to you, in the hope that you will pay it forward for both of us.
Benjamin Dolce