Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The Lost heir Job | Part 1

McRory's Pub

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the dimly lit pub as Nate sat alone at the bar, his fingers tapping the edge of his mug in thought. The air was quiet, save for the occasional clink of glassware, when the door creaked open. A woman entered, her arms full of files and a briefcase. She stood still for a moment, scanning the room, before her eyes locked on Nate.

"Are you Nathan Ford?" Her voice was clear, calm, but held an unmistakable authority.

Nate looked up, his brow furrowing for a moment, but he nodded. "Yes."

The woman stepped closer, setting down the heavy briefcase and adjusting the files in her arms. "I'm Tara Carlisle. I'm Ruth Walton's attorney. She's running late. I'm sure you know that Bennett Kimball passed away last week."

Nate's face softened with surprise and sympathy. "I'm sorry," he stammered, his mind racing. "Ruth didn't mention an attorney. Why are you here?"

Tara's eyes flicked briefly to the door as if waiting for someone. "Oh, that's Ruth. We can talk about this later." Her gaze returned to him, her tone matter-of-fact, but her expression, though practiced, seemed tinged with something unspoken.

The door swung open again, and Ruth Walton entered. She was holding a small basket of yellow flowers, and she smiled warmly at Nate, though there was a weariness in her eyes.

"Hi. You must be Nate."

Nate stood from his seat, nodding solemnly. "Hello. I just heard about Mr. Kimball, and I'm sorry."

Ruth held out the flowers with a soft, fragile smile. "Blue irises. They were his favorite."

Nate took the flowers, his fingers brushing lightly against hers. "Uh, so, why don't we sit down?"

They moved to a nearby table, Tara following them with her notebook, settling into the chair across from them. She flipped open the first page, ready to take notes as Ruth began speaking, her voice steady but filled with a quiet pain.

"I run a nonprofit," Ruth began, her hands folded gently in her lap. "We move children from foster care into adoption. One day, I got a call from Mr. Kimball. He said he'd read about us in the newspaper and wanted to help. I figured he'd make a donation, and that would be that. But then his checks kept coming. Each one bigger than the last."

Nate listened intently, his eyes narrowing slightly. He nodded slowly, understanding the weight of what she was saying. "Yeah, that's not so unusual. You know, men like Kimball, towards the end of their lives, they're looking for redemption."

Ruth glanced at Tara before continuing. "When his health started to fail, I would visit him, show him pictures of the children we were working with. It always cheered him up."

Tara, her pen moving swiftly across the page, nodded. "And that's when he told her about his will."

Nate sighed, "You're actually doing fine, Ruth." Nate turned to the lawyer, "You don't really need to... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Tara cut him off with a gentle smile. "Sorry," she said, though it was clear she wasn't offended. Ruth's eyes were downcast, and Tara allowed a moment of silence before encouraging her to continue.

Ruth wiped a tear from her cheek, then steadied herself. "A few months ago, Mr. Kimball told me he had drafted a new will. He was leaving his entire estate to my charity. I was stunned."

Nate leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Did he ever show you this new will?"

Ruth shook her head, the sadness in her eyes deepening. "No. After that, his lawyer, Peter Blanchard, wouldn't let anyone see him. I knew he was doing badly, so last week I snuck into his room. He didn't even know who I was. He kept calling me Gigi." Her voice cracked slightly as she looked away, trying not to cry.