John had just gotten off the phone with one of his biggest clients, when he heard a loud ruckus outside his office.

"I'm sorry Miss!" He heard Sheila exclaim. "But you can't go in there!"

Furious about the disruption to his day, he jumped up from his chair, and tore open the door.

"What the hell—?" He started to shout. But as he flung the door open, he saw Hope standing there. She had a look of terror upon her face, as her eyes were red and swollen. She was shaking, and had obviously been crying.

"I am so sorry, Mr Beckman!" Sheila exclaimed. "But this crazy—!"

"It's okay Sheila!" John replied as he concentrated only on Hope's tear stained face.

"But Mr Beck—!" She started to say again.

"I said it's okay, Shelia!" He snapped. "Why don't you get Miss Chamberlain here some bottled water?"

"Of course sir." The secretary replied, as she gave Hope a quick cold stare before leaving the office, and closed the door.

John placed his hands on Hope's upper arms, and looked right into her terrified eyes.

"What's wrong, Hope?" He asked. "Did somebody hurt you?"

"I'm so sorry to bother you at work!" She cried. "I just don't know where else to go. My uncle's taking the red eye to London tonight, I just have no were else to turn." With that she soon burst into tears. John put his arms around her, as he held her in a comforting hug.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He replied in a soothing tone, as he started to rub her back. "Let's take a seat on the couch, and we'll talk." With his arm wrapped around her shoulder, he walked her over to the couch. As they sat down, she continued to cry. John lightly placed her head on his shoulder, as he let cry out whatever was upsetting her. Soon there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" John replied. The door slowly opened, and Sheila walked in carrying a tray of bottled water and a glass of ice.

"I have Miss Chamberlain's water." Said Sheila with no emotion what so ever. She stared at them, obviously annoyed by what was happening.

"Thank you, Sheila." Said John. "That'll be all."

"Um, just a quick reminder sir." She replied. "You have a 3:30 appointment today, with Mr. Wilkinson, here in your office." John sighed in annoyance.

"Call and cancel." Said John, "And hold all of my calls the rest of the day."

"But what am I supposed to tell Mr. Wilkinson?" She inquired.

"I don't care." He scoffed. "Tell him I had a family emergency."

"But he's not going to be happy—!" She started reply.

"I don't give a flying fuck!" He exclaimed. "Now get out of my office! If you're so damn worried about making Wilkinson happy, then just sleep with him like you did last weekend!"

Her eyes widened as she had a look of total shock, but she said nothing. She just marched out of his office, and slammed the door behind her.

"Oh my god!" Cried Hope. "I've turned your place of work into a circus!"

John just looked at her, as he gave her a caring smile. "I happen to like the circus."

While her eyes were still filled with tears, she smiled as he had made her laugh a bit.

"You know of all my parents friends, and associates." She said. "You have probably always been the nicest to me."

"Well you make it easy to be nice to you." He said as he smiled at her. "Now tell me what's wrong."

"What do you know about the bottle?" She asked.

"What bottle?" He inquired.

"The bottle that you gave me after the memorial service." She replied.

"Oh, that bottle." He said. "Not much. I know it's an antique that they brought back from Morocco. They also said it was their good luck charm, and to keep it in a safe deposit box until your eighteen birthday. They then wanted you to have it."

"I don't want it." She told him. "Is there anyway we could lock it up somewhere, far away from here."

"Oh boy." He sighed.

"What?' She asked. As she looked at him in confusion.

"I hadn't brought this up before, because I didn't think it was important." He replied, as he started to run his fingers through his hair.

"I'm confused." She stated. "I don't understand."

"Let me show you." He sighed again. As he got off the couch, he made his way over to the filing cabinet. As he began finger through his files, he kept talking to her. "The thing about Last Will and Testaments is that they sometimes contain odd clauses, and I'm afraid your father's Will was no exception."

He then grabbed the file, as he shut the filing cabinet, and brought it over to her. He then sat next to her, as he started to show her the Will.

"What do you need to show me?" She asked.

"Well if you look here." He replied, as he pointed the clause out to her. "There's a clear, and definite stipulation. The bottle is to remain in your possession, at whatever place of residence you hold. If you were to donate it, or sell it. You will lose your entire inheritance, and you will be left penniless. The bulk of your father's estate would then be broken up into different charities."

"What?" She cried. "Are you serious?" She grabbed the file from him, and looked at the clause that he had just pointed out. But sure enough, there in black and white, was her father's stipulation.

"I don't understand!" She cried. "Why would he do that to me? Why did he hate me? All I ever wanted was his love! But even now, beyond the grave, he lets me know how much he hated me!"

"Look I realize that it's an odd stipulation." He told her. "But it's really no big deal. Just put it in a safe, or the basement, or the attic of whatever place you decide to make your residence. If you don't want it on display, it doesn't have to be on display."

"It's not the simple!" She cried. "You don't understand!"

"Hope?" He asked, as he gently grabbed her upper arms. "What don't I understand?"

She just looked at him, as more tears continued to stream down her face. She then began shaking her head. "No, you'll think I'm crazy!"

"Hope, there are a lot of adjective I would use to describe you." He stated. "Beautiful, intelligent, kind hearted, I could go on and on. But crazy if not a word I would use."

"Oh really?" She asked. "Well what if I told you that an evil genie lives in that bottle, and that the same genie raped me last night."

John looked at Hope as she had a determined look upon her face, as if she were daring him to not believe her.

"Fuck!" Cried John. "That bastard Michael, got in your head!"

"What are you talking about?" She asked.

"Listen Hope, you can't rust him!" John replied. "He's not who you think he is."

"He's not my uncle?" She asked. As she looked at him with some confusion.

"No." John replied. "He's actually a con artist. But there's a reason in particular why he is targeting you."

"Because he wants my inheritance?" She asked.

"There's probably some truth to that." John told her. "But it's something more than that."

"What is it?" She asked. "You're scaring me."

"Hope, Michael Davenshire, was adopted. He wasn't your mother's biological brother. He's your real father."