Inheritance

Chapter 3

Present

"Sasha Milton: Still Single as She Approaches 26."

"The privileged heiress of Milton Co. Enterprise has yet to be linked publicly to a man, causing many to speculate what her dating preferences are. Could she have a special someone in her life that she is trying to keep hidden from the world? A close source suggests that the reason she abstains from sex-"

Setting the gossip magazine down onto my bedside table, I rubbed a hand exhaustingly over my forehead. Another stupid magazine grasping at straws to validate their ridiculous presumptions about my private life. Privileged? If only the media knew how pointlessly wrong they were.

Yes, it was true that the life I lived now was far from my humble beginnings. Unlike most foster children, I was fortunate enough to have been adopted by a wealthy relative. And for that, I would always remain grateful. So, in a sense, maybe I was privileged.

But, that hadn't always been the case. 

Trauma and abandonment were a grounded part of my identity, which had yet to fully heal. Perhaps it was naive to say, but there was no amount of money in the world that could ever compensate for the hurt that constantly followed me after being abandoned by my parents.

Apart from that, the magazine had been admittedly correct about one of their many accusations. I suppose it was true that I'd never actually been in a serious romantic relationship. Here and there, I'd allowed myself to go on a couple of casual dates, but I knew deep down that my heart only held room for one person. 

The bronze-haired boy whom I hadn't seen in over fifteen years. Gosh, I was so pathetic.

I pitifully thought about him everyday and it pained me. I wondered where he was and whether he still thought about me too. Since today was my twenty-sixth birthday, he would most likely be around the age of twenty-eight. A grown man, potentially married with children. Happy. Without me.

After all these years, was it still possible for him to resent me?

Despite today being my birthday, I was void of all the nostalgic emotions one would normally feel on their special day. My birthdays lacked sentimental value because they held no true association with the actual date that I was born. Rather, they seemed to serve as an unneeded reminder of the grim night I'd been dumped by my biological parents. 

A few moments went on before Daniela, my personal stylist, appeared from the opening of my walk-in closet, already shuffling around to prepare my outfit for the night. My uncle, the illustrious Darrell Milton, was hosting a quaint celebration for my supposed "coming of age." 

Although I was his niece, very few had been made privy to the sensitive information apart from close family and friends. My uncle knew how difficult my upbringing had been and made it his personal mission to erase as much of the dark memories as he could. So, he treated me like a daughter. In return, I viewed him as the closest thing I ever had to a father. 

I would never blame him for his sister's mistakes. He had even been the one to convince me on my thirteenth birthday to change my legal name to Sasha, since it was what most people had already begun to call me. It also helped that, unlike Sasharae or Raya, the newly-adopted name lacked as much of a connection to my traumatic childhood.

"Sasha! Are you ready? Oh my goodness! I can't wait to see how good you'll look in this latest design. I'll have you know that I had to practically offer up three of my organs to get it fresh off the runway!" Daniela beamed in her posh British accent, before delving back into my closet and into another corridor.