I’m April, and I’m twenty-six years old. My grandfather’s funeral was

They never imagined the “leftover” granddaughter was the one holding all the power. While her parents and cousins scrambled over millions, April was quietly flying first-class to Monaco to meet the prince who’d managed her billion-dollar trust for a decade. Her grandfather hadn’t forgotten her; he’d protected her, forcing the truth to surface only after everyone revealed exactly who they were without her money blinding them.

Owning casinos, resorts, global real estate, and eventually her father’s struggling shipping company, April stopped asking to be seen and started deciding who deserved a place in her life. She didn’t bankrupt them or gloat; instead, she demanded something far more painful—public acknowledgment of how cruelly they’d dismissed her. By the time she became a major philanthropist, they finally understood: her greatest inheritance wasn’t the 1.3 billion. It was the unshakable knowledge of her own worth.