That night, the house seemed to hold its breath, cloaked in shadows that flickered with the passing headlights from the street. My mind replayed the day’s events, a montage of condolences and muted voices that filtered through the fog of my grief. But beneath it all, the messages tugged at my thoughts, refusing to be dismissed as mere pranks.
Once the house was still, I moved silently, making my way to Richard’s study. The room carried his scent—a blend of leather and the faint aroma of his favorite cigars. The desk stood as an imposing presence in the center, its polished surface now an object of mystery and potential revelation.
I hesitated for a moment, my fingers grazing the cool wood. Could this really be happening? Was I about to uncover something that would shatter the fragile reality I was clinging to?
The unknown number’s words echoed: “The real will is in here.”
Taking a deep breath, I crouched down and tugged at the top drawer. It opened smoothly, revealing Richard’s meticulous organization—pens aligned, papers stacked with precision. But my eyes were drawn to the section beneath it, the area circled in the photo.
My hands shook as I fumbled with the false bottom, finally prying it open. Inside lay a single envelope, yellowed with age and sealed with a familiar wax stamp—Richard’s insignia. I broke the seal, pulling out the papers with trembling hands.
The will was different. Very different. My heart raced as I scanned the lines, disbelief mingling with a growing sense of betrayal.
This document named me as the primary beneficiary, the children receiving a more modest portion. Why had Richard hidden this? And why had he left the other version for Natalie to find?
A creak on the floorboards jolted me back to the present. I turned sharply, heart pounding. Andrew stood in the doorway, his face shadowed but eyes bright and watchful.
“Mom?” he asked, his voice low and edged with something I couldn’t quite place. “Andrew,” I replied, trying to mask the tremor in my voice. “I…couldn’t sleep.”
He stepped further into the room, his gaze shifting to the open drawer, then back to me.
For a second, our eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between us. Did he know? “Is everything okay?” he asked, his tone careful.
I nodded, slipping the envelope into my pocket with feigned nonchalance. “Just wanted to feel closer to your father,” I said, hoping the half-truth was enough. He lingered a moment longer, then nodded.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
