Blood Money (1) | The Inheritance Games

XLIV. closure

"Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. I know that it's over, I don't need your closure."

I pop open the vial, carefully tipping the contents over my letter. The white powder cascades onto the paper, I spread it out evenly until it's covering the entire letter. Spraying water over the page on a whim, I wait with bated breath.

Then the powder starts to foam up, bubbling and hissing quietly. I prepare to jump if it explodes, but after a moment it simmers down and the letter absorbs the liquid, leaving a freshly uncovered letter in its wake.

I choke a laugh, gratefulness and nerves merging to a hopeful gulp.

Shaking hands lift the letter, my eyes scanning it up and down to understand every word.

Dear Spence,

If you are reading this, then I suppose the game has already closed to an end in regards for your brothers' field. By now, they've likely deciphered the puzzles I've set for them, relished in their triumphs, and made sense of the legacy I've left behind. But I've always known you would be different, Spencer. You are not like your brothers. You never needed riddles or codes to know what truly mattered.

I've watched you all your life — the way you listen, the way you feel, the way you understand people without needing to ask. You have a rare gift, one that cannot be measured by books or degrees. You see the world not in facts, but in feelings. The work you do with hearts, not minds, is what has always impressed me.

I've left you nothing — nothing, at least, that might seem like a reward in the conventional sense. But I trust that my granddaughter will find her own reward. You'll look beyond the treasure chest or the bank balance. You'll seek feeling.

SAH, your game is just beginning.

Your brothers are chasing clues, chasing puzzles, chasing their inheritance. But you, my dear, will begin the hunt for something I know you crave more than money. Your deepest challenges within this game lies in yourself, in the choices you will make, in how you choose to carry the torch of the legacy I've given you. I hope that when the dust settles, and the money is spent, you will see what I truly meant by this — what your inheritance is.

Find it.

Trust your heart.

Climb the cliff, and do not fear the fall.

You've always known the most important truth, Spencer — that love, in the end, is the only thing that truly lasts. And that, my dear, is the treasure that matters most.

Sincerely, TTH

Before I can even spend a moment pondering the content, or contemplating everything, my phone ringing bursts through my thoughts.

Still shaking with anxiety, I lift my phone and hit answer, not reading the caller.

"Fuck.. Xan I'm so fucking scared.." Noah's voice trembles rapidly. "I dunno what's happening." He winces in agony, and my heart actively shatters.

"Noah?" I ask with worry. "Spence? Fuck.. I searched Hawthorne- I must've clicked the wrong number." He tries to sound unbothered, but I heard what I heard and I know this isn't just a panic attack. He's terrified.

"Noah, what's going on. Talk to me?" I speak firmly. "Forget it." The boy on the phone whispers. 

I instantly discard the letter from my Grandfather to the side, prioritising him as always. 

"Where are you?" I ask. "It's fine." He dismisses. "I'm gonna find you, don't worry." I coo. "Fuck off!" He yells over the phone.

For a moment I'm stunned silent, wondering if this is the same Noah Thatcher I last spoke to. Perhaps he was cloned? 

I don't get to respond.

He's already hung up.

— END OF PART 1