The summons was unexpected—a letter from Arthur’s attorney. I hesitated, my heart pounding with all sorts of apprehension. With trembling hands, I tore it open and read the formal invitation to the reading of Arthur’s will.
A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Why was I invited? Curtis had already made it clear that I was out of the picture, a dismissed chapter in his newly lavish life.
On the day of the reading, I walked into the lawyer’s office with trepidation. Curtis was already there, lounging confidently in a designer suit, his new reality perfectly tailored around him. His eyes flickered over me briefly, registering nothing, as if I were a mere shadow in this room of wealth and power.
The lawyer, Mr. Grayson, was in his sixties, with gray hair that hinted at a lifetime of handling complex estates. He began the procedure with practiced solemnity, detailing Arthur’s various donations to charities and endowments.
Curtis feigned interest, nodding where appropriate, but his attention was clearly focused on the impending final clause. “And now, for the remainder of the estate,” Mr. Grayson announced, peering over his spectacles at a document that seemed to tower with importance.
What happened next changed everything…
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