The wooden chair in the cramped office was surprisingly uncomfortable, despite its padded seat. I shifted slightly, glancing at the clock on the wall that marked 3:17 PM. Across the desk, Mr. Hargrove, the estate attorney, sifted through a pile of documents. His tie was slightly askew, a detail that seemed out of place in the otherwise meticulously organized room. « Here it is, » he said finally, sliding an envelope across the table. Its weight and thickness were unsettling. I hesitated before picking it up, noting the date on the label—August 15, 2023. « Everything’s in there, » he added calmly, as if he were discussing the weather. His words hung in the air, quiet yet heavy. I nodded, keeping my expression neutral, though my mind raced with questions. The room’s silence was only broken by the distant hum of a photocopier. I knew this was just the beginning, not the end. There was more to uncover, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was about to step into something far more complicated than I had anticipated.
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