After that unsettling phone call, I was determined to uncover the truth. I decided to visit my grandfather. He was sitting in his usual spot by the window, the light playing softly on his face as he nodded off, the newspaper slipping from his fingers. “Grandpa,” I called gently, “there’s something I need to ask you.” He stirred, blinking slowly, his eyes focusing on me with a warmth that belied the questions swirling in my mind. “What is it, dear?” he replied, his voice steady but tired. I hesitated, unsure how to broach the topic. “I found some old messages on Grandma’s phone,” I began, watching his reaction closely. His expression remained unchanged, but there was a slight tightening around his eyes. “Messages? What about them?” he asked, almost too casually. I took a deep breath, “There was one from a number I didn’t recognize, saying something about an arrangement being off. Do you know what that means?”
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