Chapter 10

"|| TEST SCENARIO, BEGIN LEVEL 10: LEGAL ||"

The man sitting in the chair across from me smiled. "Half of me thinks you are the luckiest person alive, and the other half of me thinks that no amount of money in the world would entice me to go through what you have obviously been through."

"I'm sorry?" I looked over at Mr. Blakely. Following instructions, the cab driver had driven me to the legal offices of 'Howard, Johnston, and Blakely' and now, after a short wait, I was sitting in Mr. Blakely's office.

"You're Jonathan McDonald, correct?"

"Yes! Can you tell me what's going on, Mr. Blakely?" Finally, someone who knew my real name! I had begun to think that I had entered some alternate-reality universe.

"Please, call me William. And yes, I can finally tell you what's going on. Somehow you broke into Mr. Hewitt's house... ?"

"Oh, no! I'm a paralegal, and I was assigned to search the house for documents relating to Mr. Hewitt's Last Will and Testament. You see, the hospital couldn't find any next of kin or contact information..."

"And that would be because there are no next of kin," Mr. Blakely interjected.

"Oh, okay. And so they turned the case over to the State which contracted with our law firm to dig up more information and dispose of the estate, and so I was sent over to look the place over."

"And did you find a copy of the will?" Mr. Blakely grinned, obviously enjoying a joke at my expense.

"No..."

"And would you like to see a copy of the will?"

"Yes..."

"Well! It so happens that I have a copy right here!" Mr. Blakely handed me a sheaf of papers with evident satisfaction. "You see, we're the official executors of Mr. Hewitt's estate. Why don't you look through the document. The final revision was faxed to me this morning."

"What ... What do you mean, this morning?"

"I think you'll understand when you read it."

Of course I wasn't a lawyer, but I could read legal-language well enough. I started flipping through the pages, pretty standard stuff, until I got to the appendix ... when I started shaking violently.

"But!" I sputtered, "This can't be!"

I looked again:

The bulk of my estate, including personal financial assets of

roughly $400 million dollars (as of 1/1/2002) and the house and

grounds (of roughly 129 acres) at 1 Hewitt place I leave to

Jennifer McDonald, formerly Jack McDonald, of 413 Pine Orchard Way.

I further name her to be the chairperson and president of the Hewitt

foundation, responsible for the charitable disbursement of the

foundation's assets in accordance with the mission statement,

guidelines, and charter, a position which pays a salary of

$1 million per annum.

"Um ... how much money is in the foundation?" I asked.

"Roughly 2.5 billion dollars."

"Oh!" I fainted.

"Miss? Miss?" I shook my head away from the horrible smelling salts. Opening my eyes I saw a young-ish man standing over me. "Are you OK? Do we need to take you to the hospital?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

"She's had quite a shock, Tim," Mr. Blakely chuckled. I sat up slowly and saw him looking at me, amused. "I think she'll be fine. Thanks for the quick first aid!"