Between our hands

Chapter 5: The Weight of the Inheritance.

The morning of departure, an unusual calm reigned over the Georges’ farm. Dawn was barely breaking, casting golden rays over the wheat fields, enveloping everything in a soft, peaceful light. The familiar sounds of animals waking in their enclosures mixed with the whispers of the wind, creating a tranquil melody. But inside the house, this quiet had no place. A silent turmoil stirred within each family member, each lost in their own thoughts, gripped by an underlying anxiety that clung to their every move. The contrast between the calm outside and the storm within seemed to grow with every passing minute, as if the farm itself was preparing for their departure, sensing the magnitude of the change to come.

Maëlle, still drowsy, stood before her open suitcase. She adjusted her belongings with trembling hands, occasionally casting furtive glances out of her bedroom window. The fields she knew by heart, which she had crossed hundreds of times, suddenly seemed distant, almost foreign. The strangeness of this morning unsettled her. This place, which had always been comforting and secure, had taken on an oppressive quality. The thought of leaving the farm, even for just a few days, pained her. Paris, that vast city, no longer represented a simple trip or exciting adventure but a confrontation with an unknown reality—that of the inheritance from a certain Mr. Ben Ali. This idea stirred a new anxiety within her, a sense of vertigo at the enormity of what she was about to discover.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, Samuel and Victoria busied themselves in silence, each absorbed in their own worries. Samuel, usually so calm and confident, appeared more fragile today. His movements were precise but slow, almost hesitant, as he checked the necessary documents for the meeting with the lawyer for the umpteenth time. Victoria, on the other hand, tried her best to maintain a facade of calm. She made sure everything was ready, that nothing was missing, but her eyes betrayed the anxiety she carried. She kept touching Samuel gently—a soft hand on his arm, a reassuring glance—as if to ensure that they were still in sync, united in the face of this ordeal.

In the courtyard, the family cars waited, ready to go, their engines softly humming as if signaling that the time had come. The gravel crunched under the hesitant steps of the Georges family members as they climbed one by one into the vehicles. Each seemed lost in their own world of thoughts, as though the weight of the day ahead was already pulling them apart. Maëlle took her seat in the back, surrounded by her siblings. Daniel, usually so talkative and energetic, fidgeted nervously, unable to sit still. He kept glancing around, running his hand through his hair with an almost compulsive regularity. Nahïa, meanwhile, remained unusually quiet, arms crossed, her gaze lost in the distance as if trying to understand what was truly at stake. Sacha, true to himself, said nothing, merely watching the passing scenery through the window, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

The silence in the car was heavy, almost suffocating. A few exchanged phrases here and there were not enough to dispel the tense atmosphere that enveloped the space. Each was deep in thought, struggling to come to terms with the unknown that awaited them. The road to Paris, usually exciting for special occasions, seemed endless today. As the green fields and country roads gave way to crowded highways and bustling small towns, the contrast between their peaceful life and the city’s frantic pace became more tangible. The transition from the tranquility of their rural environment to the urban rush of the capital felt almost oppressive.

Maëlle watched the changing landscapes without really seeing them. Her mind was focused on the lawyer’s letter, which she had read and reread, each word etched into her memory. Mr. Ben Ali. That name echoed within her like a distant call. She couldn’t understand how a man so far removed—both in time and space—could have such an impact on their lives. This trip to Paris no longer felt like a simple excursion. It was a journey into the unknown, a confrontation with a truth she wasn’t sure she wanted to face.

When the first signs of the capital appeared—with its towering buildings, dense traffic, and the incessant honking of horns—a wave of apprehension swept through the cars. The city’s hustle, the hurried people, the noise of engines, all seemed to amplify, as if to remind them that they were about to face a reality far more complex than anything they had ever known. Paris, the City of Light, which had always fascinated Maëlle for its grandeur and possibilities, now seemed oppressive, almost threatening.

Upon their arrival, William, Sophie, and Nohé were already waiting at the designated meeting point with the lawyer. The reunions were brief, almost mechanical. The usual smiles had vanished, replaced by worried glances and measured gestures. It wasn’t the time for jokes or joyful stories from life on the farm. Even Nohé, usually so carefree, wore a serious expression, fully aware of the gravity of the moment.

Together, they entered the lawyer’s office, an imposing building whose modern architecture starkly contrasted with the familial atmosphere they were used to. The lobby, vast and cold, gave off a sense of distance and formality. The marble floor reflected the white neon lights, and every step echoed in the air, amplifying the weight of the situation. A secretary greeted them with professional politeness, her movements measured and precise, before guiding them to a spacious meeting room.

The room was elegant yet austere. A large dark wooden table sat in the center, surrounded by padded chairs that, despite their comfort, seemed to demand a rigid and formal posture. Wide bay windows allowed natural light to flood in, but the view of the bustling city outside offered no consolation. The space felt cold, impersonal, yet charged with an almost palpable solemnity.

After a few minutes of tense waiting, the lawyer finally entered. He was a middle-aged man with a stern face, wearing a perfectly tailored suit that emphasized his professionalism. His stride was confident, his movements deliberate, as if he controlled every second of this meeting. He shook hands with each family member, his gaze scrutinizing each of them before taking his place at the head of the table.

“Thank you for coming so promptly,” he began, his deep voice resonating in the room. “We have a lot to discuss today, and it’s important that you fully understand all the implications before making a decision.”

Maëlle, seated next to Victor, felt her heart race. The lawyer’s words were heavy with meaning. She felt the apprehension rising within her, but the comforting touch of Victor’s hand, gently placed on hers, brought her back to the present. This gesture, discreet yet full of tenderness, helped her stay grounded as the lawyer laid out the situation with unrelenting precision.

He spoke at length about Mr. Ben Ali, his illness, and the DNA tests that had confirmed their family connection. He explained clearly that this revelation made them the legitimate heirs, not only to his fortune but also to his throne. Maëlle listened, her thoughts becoming hazy as the lawyer listed the consequences of this inheritance. Millions at stake, political responsibilities, a throne to assume... The figures and technical terms barely registered in her mind. What struck her was that word: “throne.” The idea of ruling a country, of bearing the weight of a crown and a people, sent shivers down her spine.

The silence grew heavier as the lawyer concluded his presentation. He gave them a week to think it over—seven days to make a decision that could change not only their lives but the lives of countless others.