August 7, 1984
The funeral lasted over two hours, and out of respect for the deceased, Sean maintained his composure throughout the ceremony. However, the event was far from over. With numerous celebrities attending from across the United States and Europe, Sean and Saul found themselves waiting to assist with arrangements for guests.
As dusk approached, the funeral proceedings concluded, allowing Sean to finally turn his attention to the will of his estranged father, Philemon D. Rockefeller.
Inside one of the luxurious villas among the 75 buildings, Sean and Saul were ushered into an opulent living room.
As they entered, Saul's eyes widened in astonishment. The chandelier sparkled with pure crystal, the rosewood table gleamed, and the sterling silver tea set sat elegantly on top. Even the tablecloth, hand embroidered from the finest silk, was a testament to wealth. A priceless work of art adorned the room, adding to its grandeur.
However, Sean was unfazed by the opulence; he had seen far more impressive sights during his time at the Forbidden City. Instead, his attention was drawn to a striking middle-aged woman seated in the center of the room. Dressed in white, she appeared nearly ageless, radiating an undeniable charm that overshadowed her three sons and daughters nearby.
"Good evening, Madam," Sean greeted, bowing slightly. He struggled to remember her name, which the waiter had mentioned earlier.
The woman appraised him without a word, barely acknowledging his presence, before exchanging a look with the blond man beside her.
Sean's initial goodwill evaporated instantly, replaced by a frown. The blond man approached, presenting a document. "Mr. Sean Rockefeller, I'm Philemon D. Rockefeller's lawyer. According to Mr. Rockefeller's will and the family's rules, you are entitled to a monthly sum from the Rockefeller Family Trust."
Sean scanned the faces of the woman and her children, then nodded silently at the lawyer.
"Every month…" Saul's face flushed with excitement at the prospect of wealth. The Rockefeller Family Trust could potentially yield millions—surely $1 million, or even $500,000, would be the minimum, right?
"Ten thousand dollars," the lawyer stated flatly.
Saul leaped up, his face reddening with disbelief. "Say that again! How much?!"
"Ten thousand. U.S. dollars," the blond man repeated, his expression unchanged.
At that moment, Saul disregarded the luxury surrounding them, fixating instead on the amount, roaring like a wounded animal. "This is how the Rockefellers treat their children? Sean has lived abroad for over 20 years and faced struggles, and this is the best Philemon can offer.
This isn't fair! God won't forgive him!" Saul's voice echoed with indignation, his arms flailing in frustration.
"Ten thousand dollars a month is a pittance for one of the wealthiest families in the world! You're humiliating Sean, dishonoring the Rockefeller name!"
"I don't believe it. You must be hiding something. As Sean's lawyer, I demand to see the original will!" Saul exclaimed, his respect for the Rockefeller family evaporating.
"Enough!" The authoritative voice of the middle-aged woman cut through the tension. "This is not a place to display your barbarism."
"Okay," Sean interjected calmly, his demeanor steady despite the mounting chaos.
The woman's eyes narrowed at Saul. "You are not qualified to evaluate the Rockefeller family's affairs. As for the will, show it to him."
The blond man lowered his head and opened a folder.
"I don't think there's anything special about Rockefeller Manor, and I don't believe you're any nobler than Saul," Sean declared, interrupting. "But there's no need to read it."
Both Saul and the middle-aged woman turned to Sean in astonishment. He had remained composed throughout, even after hearing the meager amount.
"What are you doing?" Saul whispered urgently.
Sean raised a hand to stop the lawyer from presenting the will. "I said, don't read it. Just give me the document so I can sign it."
"You're crazy!" Saul exclaimed, gripping Sean's arm tightly. "Ten thousand is an insult!"
"No, Saul, this isn't right. There must be a mistake," Saul insisted, his face darkening with worry.
Yet Sean remained calm. The middle-aged woman studied him for a moment before speaking. "Rockefeller family rules dictate that any legitimate offspring are entitled to a minimum monthly stipend from the family trust. Ten thousand dollars is guaranteed for basic living needs during tough times. Do not tarnish the Rockefeller name."
Sean smiled, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He reached for the document and signed his name: Sean King Rockefeller.
"You!" Saul's expression twisted in frustration, but Sean's resolve was unwavering. Saul, unable to contain his disappointment, reluctantly signed beside him and added Sean's bank account information, his dissatisfaction evident as he slapped the document into the lawyer's hands.
Sean's gaze swept over the room, lingering momentarily on the faces of his half-siblings—two brothers and a sister—before he said, "Goodbye, everyone."
"Goodbye," the middle-aged woman replied silently, while the three siblings echoed the farewell, though their expressions were a mix of curiosity and disdain.
The Rockefeller family had endured for generations, with the sixth generation now present. For the wealthy and idle members of the Rockefeller clan, having illegitimate children was not uncommon; the family had established rules for acknowledging them. The siblings had grown accustomed to this reality, seeing no shame in it. However, married women were a different matter altogether.
As Sean and Saul exited the lavish villa, Saul continued to mutter angrily about the injustice of the situation. "Ten thousand dollars! How can they call that a family obligation? Philemon D. Rockefeller should have done better by you, Sean."
Sean walked in silence, his mind racing with thoughts of his father's neglect and the enormity of the family legacy that now bore his name. He had hoped for recognition, perhaps even an acknowledgment of the struggles he had faced alone. Instead, he had received a meager sum, a reminder of how little he mattered to the family he had longed to connect with.
"Let's just leave this behind us," Sean finally said, trying to shake off the tension. "We'll figure it out. I've been on my own for a long time; this won't change anything."
Saul stopped and looked at him, concern etched across his face. "But it's not right, Sean. You deserve better than this."
"I know," Sean replied, a hint of resolve in his voice. "But I'm done fighting for their approval. It's time to carve my path."
With that, they walked away from the opulence of the Rockefeller estate, leaving behind the echoes of a legacy that had failed to recognize Sean's worth, determined to forge a future on his terms.