The Hidden Granddaughter: A Crossdresser’s Tale of Inheritance and Transformation

Lawyers’ Unyielding Stance

The two lawyers were vulture-esque as they strutted their stuff. “There’s nothing we can do,” they tutted. “The will is as plain as day that her ‘granddaughter’ will inherit her estate.”

“Chelsea, my sister, has been dead for 30 years,” Chris growled. “I’ve been the one taking care of her all this time. You know she was slipping in her old age. The will should be overturned.”

Upset, Chris balled his hands into fists but kept them by his side. Ever since his parents and sister died 30 years ago, it was just him and his grandma. She had failing health for the last thirty years, and it broke his heart seeing her like that. He should’ve been grieving at this moment, but instead, he had to deal with the vultures.

“The wording of the will matters here,” whistled one of the lawyers, Sherman. He had a large nose that Chris liked to think was hiding a beak.

“You mean, the fact that it says that if I can’t find her granddaughter, it all goes to her lawyers. The offices of Sherman and Vix?”

The two layers shared the same devilish Cheshire grin. “Happy coincidence,” they said in unison. “If you cannot locate her granddaughter within a month. We’ll inherit Greta Hemsworth’s dress shop, her estate, and her considerable fortune. Now, if you do not know your sister’s whereabouts-”

“She’s dead.”

“Then the look won’t be long. Now get out of our office. We have some redecorating to plan. ” This time, it was the much fatter of the two—the one with a smushed face and protruding cheeks—more of a pig than a vulture.

The Agony of Lost Inheritance

Cooling his head was probably the best thing Chris could do now. With a huff, he left the Law Offices of Sherman & William. When he had heard there was an issue with the will and that he should come over at once, he had managed to work past his grief. Now that he was leaving, he was trying to work past his rage.

The walk back to his grandma’s dress shop was long. The walk back to the estate would’ve been even longer. He had thought about calling a taxi, but he had grim thoughts about his future finances. Especially with the way those two lawyers were grinning.

About halfway home, the clear skies turned sour. Dark clouds matching Chris’s mood rolled in, and a downpour started. The downpour had soaked his clothing by the time he got back to the dress shop. A small, wet shiver ran up and down his spine as he worked the old lock.

Rediscovering Himself Through Grandmother’s Legacy

Pushing the door open, he was greeted by familiar sights and smells. The familiar old scent of fresh linen and the sight of luxurious fabric stretched out before him. A small smile came back to his face as he waded into the store. He ran his fingers over them. He had worked here ever since he was old enough to hold a thread and needle. He had helped his grandma out every day since then.

His throat choked with emotion. He was going to miss her. She was always there for him. There would always be more he wanted her to be here for.

A few more drops from his hair sullied the floor and carpet. He remembered he was still soaking wet. There was a washer and dryer in the store, so he would use those. The main problem is that he wouldn’t have any clothes to wear. He didn’t keep a spare here.

He gave the dresses hanging another look. He supposed there was another option for clothing.

The yellow sundress hung loosely from his shoulder. A white pattern of flowers flowed from the collar to the hem of the dress, and the collar went tight to his neck, where it ended in flowery lace.

He felt his cheek ting a rosy red color as he walked up to the mirror. How many hours had he watched his grandmother work on these dresses? How often did the question of him wearing it whisper itself in his mind?

He had gotten bold enough to do it a few times in the last few years. As Greta’s condition worsened, he had more time alone here. The first time it was a rainy day like this. Even back then, the dresses felt wonderful on him. He did a small spin in the mirror, watching the dress twirl about his legs.

The thought of telling Greta about it had crossed his mind. He was open to her about his desires, but it was always possible she wouldn’t accept this side of him. He felt his mind trail off into a dark corner.

Ever since his parents died, she was the only one there for him. She was always there for him, too, and in his corner. He didn’t dare jeopardize their relationship with this secret of his. She was the one who set him up with a part-time job here while he finished college. While he had gone for computer science he didn’t want ever to leave this store.

The Revelation in Greta’s Office

Moving through the store, Chris felt like his feet had a mind of their own. The stress of the day had melted away the instant he had put on the dress. Now, he just let his mind wander. He could recall working on a lot of these dresses, learning how to stitch and sew.

On the top floor of the small shop was a private office. It was Greta’s workspace. Chris was the closest person to her. He could only remember a couple of times she had let him into this room, and he was never alone.

If this went to the lawyers, they would turn this room upside down for every penny they could squeeze from it. Chris didn’t want that to happen. He wanted to have one last moment with his grandma.

The energy was different in the room. The subtle smell of his grandmother’s favorite perfume hung in the air. There was a desk with paperwork on it, probably expenses. In the corner of the room, there was a large sheet covering something. Given the shape, Chris assumed it was a mannequin.

Drumming his fingers on the desk, Chris took it all in. A few of his favorite memories played across in his mind. His hand skated over the various paperwork laid out on the desk—taxes, receipts, stuff like that. He had helped her with it throughout the years, but Greta was meticulous. She had an eye for spotting things he missed.

Something small caught his eye on the desk. A closed envelope with his grandmother’s neatest handwriting on it. Four simple words were scrawled on its cover:

“To my dearest granddaughter”

His heart hitched. Seeing another sign of her failing memory only drove it home harder. Tracing his finger along the edge, he recalled how she had told him his mother was her only child. There was no one else this letter could be addressed to.

Plopping his butt down in the chair he used one finger to wedge the envelope open. Tearing the glue seal apart. At this point, he’d take a long-lost granddaughter to rub in the faces of those smug lawyers.

Instead, he found a few more words on the single sheet of paper in the envelope. No address or name was given, just a simple message that echoed through him.

Occasionally, we girls need to take a lesson from those dresses we always worked on. You can’t stay in the closet forever. My biggest regret is not seeing the beautiful woman you’ll grow up to be.

Of course, she knew.

Tears formed in the corner of his eyes. He bit back sobbing heaves of thanks as he curled up in the chair. He was like that for a long time.

And then she stood up. The cloth draping over the mannequin in the corner caught her still teary eyes once more. Walking over to it, she pulled back the cloth and revealed the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. She understood that this was her grandma’s last gift to her.

The Twist in the Courtroom

A month later, Sherman and Vix bounded into the courtroom with cruel enthusiasm. They had gotten a bit cocky when Chris disappeared for a month. Greta’s dress shop had closed for ‘personal business. ’ But there was also a promise they would return.

But they also knew he was a simple kid with no real financial backing as long as they held the purse strings. He was screwed. The money would be theirs.

Once inside the courtroom, a surprise met them. Chris Hemsworth was not present. Two ladies sat behind one podium, presumably a lady and her lawyer. Sherman didn’t waste a beat going into his best legal purr.

“Your honor!” He declared. “The late Miss Hemsworth had no granddaughter. We did our due diligence. Whoever this,” he paused for a moment and stuck his nose high into the air, “floozy is fake. The absent Chris Hemsworth didn’t even have the guts to show himself for this ploy.”

“It is Chelsea Hemsworth,” the lady behind the desk stated. She wore an elegant pure white frock with puffed sleeves. A delicate lace pattern ran down the long sleeves. She lifted hooded eyelids with heavy mascara to look at Sherman. “I am Greta Hemsworth’s granddaughter.”

Sherman didn’t respond; something had clicked in his head. With his partner’s slack jaw, Vix picked up the pace.

“Nonsense!” he decried. “Chelsea died in the same accident that took Greta’s daughter.”

“Which is why it is my honor to pick the name of my deceased sister.” Chelsea pressed her manicured hand against her chest as she spoke. Tears once more welled in her eyes as she recounted her tale. “My late grandmother understood me better than I understood myself.”

Chelsea turned and pleaded to the judge with soft doe-like eyes, “I was always too shy and scared to be who I really am. But now-” Chelsea paused. She dabbed a lace handkerchief against both of her eyes. There was a light trace of mascara on it now. “Thanks to these two horrible men, I have found the courage and bravery to come forward.”

She let her voice fill with anger and grief. It filled the courtroom as she intoned, “I am Chelsea Hemsworth. I am a woman and my grandmother’s granddaughter.”

“Nonsense!” wailed Sherman, finally finding his voice. “This is unacceptable.”

The gavel hit the podium. Everyone’s attention was drawn up to the judge, an aging man in dark black robes. Through peerless and perfect glasses, he looked over the people before him. “The wording of the will matters here,” his voice boomed.

“As long as the gorgeous Miss Chelsea Hemsworth continues to be true to herself, she is the last living granddaughter of the deceased.”

A smile came across Chelsea’s confident face. “There is no need to worry about that, your honor.”

Final Thoughts: A New Beginning

In the end, Chris (now Chelsea) was able to claim what was rightfully hers, but more importantly, she embraced who she was. “There is no need to worry about that, your honor.” The journey of self-acceptance and revelation had come full circle, with Chelsea finally able to live as herself without the burden of secrecy.