I slid my finger under the envelope’s flap and pulled out a single folded sheet of paper. Four short lines, written in that same neat handwriting. As I read them, my heart stopped.
My knees nearly buckled, and for the first time all day, I understood why they were calling me 72 times. My hands were trembling so badly I almost dropped the paper. The handwriting was careful, steady, but the words, they hit like a fist to the gut.
Samantha, what you don’t know is about to change everything. Your grandmother’s estate was never divided. You’re the sole inheritor.
Call my office immediately. Before they do, M. Cyr Turner, attorney at law. I read it once, twice, three times.
My pulse was thundering in my ears. I hadn’t even known my grandmother had an estate left to divide. My parents had always said she’d passed away with nothing but debts.
They’d laughed about it, even, like the woman who’d raised my father had been a burden instead of family. But this, this was real. The weight of the paper, the precision of the handwriting, the name at the bottom.
I knew Michael Turner. He’d been my grandmother’s lawyer for decades, and the phrase that stuck out like a neon sign, before they do. I didn’t need anyone to explain who they were.
My phone buzzed again in my hand. Mom, this time. I stared at the screen, the little thumbnail picture of her in the garden, smiling like she hadn’t iced me out of every major family moment for years.
Rebecca stepped closer, her voice low.
«Sam, what’s in it?»
I shook my head.
«I can’t.»
My voice cracked. I cleared my throat.
«I think my family’s been lying to me for years, and now they know I know.»
Her eyes widened.
«What do you mean?»
«I mean…» I broke off, because the phone buzzed again. Dad, this time.
Followed by Danielle. Then Mom again. Back to back to back.
They weren’t stopping. My hands went clammy. This wasn’t just them trying to congratulate me late.
This was fear. Panic. I shoved the letter into my bag, grabbed Rebecca’s arm, and started walking fast toward the parking lot.
The June sun was hot on my face, but my blood felt cold.
«They’ll come here,» I muttered. «If they think I’m with people, they’ll try to corner me.»
«I need to get out before they find me.»
Rebecca’s heels clicked against the concrete as she hurried to keep up.
«Sam, you’re scaring me. What is going on?»
I stopped by my car, gripping the handle but not unlocking it yet. I looked at her dead in the eye.
«They’ve been keeping something from me. For years. And whatever it is, it’s worth enough to make them drop Danielle’s party and call me 72 times in three hours.»
Rebecca’s brows drew together.
«So what are you going to do?»
My stomach churned. The smart move would be to call Michael Turner immediately. But a darker part of me, the part still raw from every insult, every time they skipped out on my milestones, wanted to make them wait, wanted to watch them squirm, just like I’d been made to.
The thought both thrilled and scared me. I finally unlocked the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. My phone lit up again, this time with a text from mom.
Don’t sign anything. Don’t talk to anyone. We’re coming to you.
Now. I stared at the words, my breath shallow. They knew I had the letter.