The office was quiet, almost eerily so, as I sat across from the lawyer’s polished mahogany desk. My sister, Jane, sat beside me, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The document lay between us, an unassuming manila envelope with my name typed precisely in the center. It was dated July 14, 2023. I picked it up, feeling its weight. “What is this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“You should read this,” she said, her tone calm, betraying nothing. She stood and left the room without another word, leaving me with questions swirling in my mind. The room seemed to grow colder as I opened the envelope, revealing a legal document with the header “Last Will and Testament.” My heart raced as I skimmed through the pages, each word more incomprehensible than the last. Was this some kind of mistake?
The silence was deafening, and I needed answers. Why now? Why here? I knew I had to confront her, but not before I understood the full extent of what lay before me. The truth seemed elusive, just out of reach, but I had to know. What had changed? And why was I only finding out now?
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