The air shifted, pressing in around me. My thoughts spiraled. Why me? Why now?
“I… I haven’t spoken to Helen in decades,” I said quickly. “I don’t understand. Why are you calling me?”
“I can’t discuss details over the phone,” he replied. “But your presence is required.”
My heart pounded against my ribs. Every instinct urged me to hang up, to shield the life I had built. But curiosity — sharp and relentless — tightened its grip.
After a long silence, I whispered, “Alright. I’ll come.”
“Good,” Mr. Whitman said quietly. “You may be surprised by what Helen left behind.”
The following week, I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ached. Traffic blurred past, but my mind was nowhere in the present. It hovered between dread and disbelief. Why had Helen’s lawyer called me of all people?
