Daddy Died Saving His Mistress... So I Took Everything

My father died saving his precious princess Brittany from a fire.

I raced to the hospital that night, and my first look at him? I nearly lost it.

A nurse shot me a glare. "Try to keep it down," she muttered.

But when they handed me his ashes? I completely lost my composure.

Really, Dad? You couldn't even leave a will?

A hundred million dollars just dropped in my lap - how thoughtful of you!

The news about Dad dying in that fire sent me straight to the morgue. There he was on the slab - face charred beyond recognition, barely any skin left.

I couldn't help myself - the giggles just came bubbling up.

"Show some respect," a worker hissed at me.

I mumbled "sorry" through my laughter as I practically danced to collect the death certificate.

Within hours, I'd shipped Dad off to the crematorium. While waiting for his remains, I called his lawyer. Just as I suspected - no will, no secret family, no complications. Just me - the sole heir to everything.

I moved fast. The West Hills mansion, his company, the garage full of sports cars - all mine now. Oh, and that house Dad let Brittany squat in? That needed handling too.

I showed up one afternoon to politely ask her to leave.

The second she saw me? SLAM went the door. Next thing I know, she's screaming to the cops about trespassing.

When the officers arrived, Brittany came flying out like a dramatic soap opera star. "That's her! She's breaking in!"

I put on my best innocent face. "Officer, I just knocked. Since when is that a crime?"

"She was about to break the door down!" Brittany clung to a cop's arm. "Arrest her!"

The officer peeled her off and turned to me. "Care to explain?"

"Since when is knocking on your own door trespassing?" I pulled out the deed and my ID with a flourish.

The cop checked my documents, then frowned. "If this is your house, where are your keys?"

I batted my eyelashes. "Would you believe someone's squatting here? Isn't that illegal?"

Brittany jumped in: "This is Mr. Johnson's house! I'll call him right now!"

She kept dialing Dad's number over and over as we all watched. When he didn't pick up (shocking), she started sweating.

"Give it up," I said with a smirk. "He's not answering."

"He's just busy!" Brittany snapped.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Busy being dead."