Twenty-Five Point Bank.**Mia'POV**

The envelope in my hand was black.

This meant the letter inside was not a bill, not a promotional flyer, but—an obituary.

I stared down at it in a daze, white letters spelling out: Obituary of Morcus-Rozen.

Morcus was my grandfather's name.

Impossible.

This was absolutely impossible.

My fingertips turned ice-cold in an instant, and even my breathing slowed down.

The edges of the envelope crumpled under my grip.

The wax seal that should have peeled off easily now seemed glued shut with industrial-strength adhesive.

No matter how I tore at it, I couldn't open it.

Grief swept through my entire body once again.

Numbness started from my toes, and a sharp ringing filled my ears—this same feeling had occurred when Mom took her last breath.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, and the taste of blood spread through my mouth.

Three months apart, I had lost another of my closest relatives.

Despair nearly swallowed me whole.

But just as I was on the verge of collapse, the scent of pine mixed with warm breath approached, forcefully dispersing those cold emotions.

Alden wrapped his arm around my shoulder from behind, gently encircling me in his embrace.

His cool hand covered the back of mine, broke the wax seal for me, and pulled out the obituary letter inside.

"Mia, I'm here."

"I'll face this with you."

I tilted my head slightly and saw his chin.

He held me in an almost protective posture, completely enveloping me in his arms.

His forehead rested against my ear, and I could clearly hear his steady, even breathing.

Reassuring breathing.

I tried to adjust my breathing to follow his rhythm.

The effect was remarkable.

At least my hands stopped shaking.

My racing heartbeat gradually calmed, and even my dizzy head cleared up.

Alden read out the contents of the obituary in a low voice.

Grandfather had died of sudden illness three days ago.

He had left behind some inheritance that required his heir, Mia-Eleanor, to handle in person.

I suddenly felt completely powerless.

I was only fifteen years old.

Until I came of age, Eleanor and Margaret, as my legal guardians, had the right to take over those assets on my behalf.

I couldn't protect them at all.

The sound of urgent braking came from outside the courtyard wall. I looked up to see people from the emergency center arriving.

They were hurriedly led inside by the butler.

Chaos erupted over there. I only glanced once before continuing to stare down at the obituary letter.

I didn't care at all whether Eleanor lived or died.

What I cared about was Grandfather—he had always been a healthy and robust man, and it seemed he had even served in the military in his early years.

The news of his death was so sudden.

I had no mental preparation at all.

"Look, there are two ungrateful wretches by the wall. Mom and Dad are being resuscitated, and what are you doing standing here?"

Suddenly, Camilla darted out from my side.

"Let me see!"

She snatched the obituary letter from my hand.

"Camilla—!"

I reached out to grab it back, but it was already too late.

She glanced at it a few times, as if she had discovered some treasure, then ran toward the hall holding the letter, her shrill voice instantly echoing throughout the house.

"Mom! Mia's grandfather is dead!"

"He must have left behind a fortune!"

My breathing hitched.

I could only hurry after her.

The house reeked of disinfectant and blood.

Several emergency personnel were preparing to lift the injured Eleanor onto a stretcher.

Margaret, who had fainted from shock earlier, had also been moved to the sofa by a nurse.

Hearing Camilla's words, she almost immediately opened her eyes.

"What did you say?"

She snatched the obituary, quickly scanned it a few times, and undisguised greed instantly surfaced in her eyes.

The nurse frowned and reminded her: "Ma'am, your husband needs to go to the hospital immediately to treat his wound—"

"He won't die."

Margaret interrupted without looking up.

She turned to look at Eleanor, who was covered in blood and pale from pain.

"The inheritance in the countryside is more important. We need to go there right away."

"At least let the doctor finish suturing him—"

"Simple hemostasis is enough."

Margaret said impatiently: "We'll naturally go to the hospital after we finish handling things."

The medical staff were clearly disapproving, but Eleanor himself forced himself to nod.

Obviously, the word "inheritance" stimulated him more than his wound.

With the patient and family so insistent, the doctor could only send Eleanor back to his room.

They gave him painkillers, rebandaged his wound, and repeatedly warned him not to move strenuously.

Eleanor impatiently drove them away, and the house became quiet again.

He was in so much pain that cold sweat covered his forehead, his entire face contorted. The painkillers seemed to have no effect at all.

Meanwhile, Margaret stood by the bed urging him:

"That old man died at such an inconvenient time. Get up quickly, we must get to Greenfield today."

Eleanor was in too much pain to move at all.

In the end, Margaret simply had two male servants forcibly lift him up.

The moment his wound was pulled, he let out a piercing scream.

Serves him right.

I watched all this coldly.

This was his beloved new love.

A greedy and vicious woman.

Eventually, we still set out overnight for Greenfield.

I sat quietly in the car, watching the night continuously recede outside the window.

Whether it was the inheritance Grandfather left behind or that estate.

I would never let Margaret succeed.

Grandfather had a farm on the west side of Greenfield.

The last time I came here was when I was seven years old.

After that, Eleanor always refused to bring Mom and me back, using "business is too busy" as an excuse.

The car slowly drove into the farm.

In my memory, this place had been lively and prosperous.

Vast golden wheat fields, flocks of cattle and sheep, and workers bustling about.

But now, weeds had long overgrown both sides of the road.

The cattle sheds and pigsties in the distance were dilapidated, some even collapsed.

The entire farm looked as desolate as if it had been abandoned for many years.

When the car stopped, Margaret had just stepped down when her high heels sank into the muddy ground.

"What kind of godforsaken place is this?"

She frowned in disgust: "Didn't they say the old man left behind a huge fortune?"

Camilla and Lydia refused to get out of the car, complaining about the foul air and urging the driver to take them back to the city.

Eleanor had the servants push his wheelchair into the house.

Before long, his excited shout came from inside:

"My God! Come see what I found!"

Camilla and Lydia, who had been full of disgust moments ago, immediately changed their expressions.

The two almost simultaneously pushed open the car door and rushed into the house.

Margaret also couldn't care about the mud on her shoes and quickly followed, lifting her skirt.

Alden and I were left last.

Alden was always very quiet when there were many people around.

But even if he didn't say a word, just standing beside me, I still felt secure.

We entered the house.

A heavy smell of dust hit us in the face.

Perhaps because Grandfather had been hospitalized for a long time before his death, this house had been unattended for quite a while.

Furniture was covered in dust, corners hung with cobwebs.

They gathered around the table in the living room.

Camilla held up a letter, deliberately waving it at me, and read aloud:

"My dear Mia, when you read this letter, I will already be gone—"

Lydia immediately giggled:

"So sentimental, is little Mia going to cry?"

Camilla continued reading:

"Mia, I've left you a sum of savings, about eighty million, deposited at—"

Her voice suddenly stopped.

"How is this possible?"

Eleanor and Margaret immediately leaned over.

The greed on their faces was almost impossible to conceal.

"Deposited at... Twenty-Five Point Bank."

Everyone froze.

Including Alden and me.

I asked him in a low voice: "Do you know where this is?"

Alden gently shook his head.

"No idea."

Margaret snatched the letter away, examining it over and over several times, her expression growing increasingly ugly.

"Was that old man scammed?"

"There's no such thing as Twenty-Five Point Bank in this world!"

Eleanor also frowned tightly.

On the other side, Camilla and Lydia had already started searching around unwillingly.

"Maybe the real bankbook is hidden somewhere else?"

They searched all the way outside.

Soon, Lydia's excited voice came from outside:

"Mom! There's a locked shed here!"

"There must be something hidden inside!"

I hurried out after them, my expression suddenly changing.

It was an abandoned wooden shed.

The door lock had long since rusted.

And when I was seven, I had seen with my own eyes—that place used to be where the farm processed livestock manure.

Many old farms would seal abandoned manure pits under such inconspicuous sheds.

They had grown up in the city and hadn't recognized it at all.

"Don't go in!"

I blurted out.

Perhaps my reaction was too intense.

They became even more convinced that something secret was hidden inside.

Margaret glanced at me coldly:

"Mia, you shouldn't be so selfish."

"You're still young. These assets should naturally be kept by your father and me on your behalf."

Camilla and Lydia directly blocked the door, looking at me with vigilance.

"Fine."

I waved my hand and stepped back a few paces: "Then go ahead."

Margaret seemed very satisfied with my attitude.

She raised her proud chin, opened the door, and walked in—

"Splash."

"Ahhhh!!!"

A scream suddenly rang out.

Camilla and Lydia nervously rushed in, only to fall in one after another as expected.

"A cesspit! This is a cesspit!"

"Eleanor! Save us!"