The diamond bracelet that had belonged to a Russian countess.
The emerald ring she’d worn on her wedding day.
Brandon saw dollar signs.
I saw our grandmother’s legacy.
The attorney, Thomas Wade, approached me as people began dispersing toward their cars. He was a thin man in his sixties with silver hair and eyes that had seen too many family disputes over inheritances.
“Miss Thornton,” he said quietly, “I know this is difficult timing, but we need to discuss the will reading. It’s scheduled for next Thursday at two o’clock.”
“I’ll be there,” I assured him, watching my mother help my father into their car across the cemetery lawn. They looked older suddenly, diminished by grief.
Thomas hesitated, lowering his voice further.
“Your grandmother made some very specific provisions. Very specific. She was quite insistent about the wording in the final month.”
His eyes held mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.
“She mentioned she’d found an old draft missing from her files. She was concerned someone might find it and misunderstand.”
My phone buzzed again.
Brandon had posted another photo, this time wearing Grandma’s platinum watch, captioning it, ‘Already enjoying my inheritance. Grandma always knew I needed it more.’
The comments had shifted. Some relatives were congratulating him. Others were asking uncomfortable questions about whether the will had been read yet.
I showed Thomas the post.
His expression hardened.
“That watch alone is valued at $85,000. It’s a 1953 Patek Philippe.”
He pulled out his own phone, screenshotting Brandon’s post.
“This might be relevant to the proceedings.”
“The last paragraph,” I said, remembering my text to Brandon. “What exactly does it say?”
Thomas’s slight smile was grim.
“Come to the reading, Miss Thornton. Your grandmother was a very wise woman who understood human nature perhaps too well.”
He handed me his card.
“If your brother posts anything else, document it. Screenshots, timestamps, witnesses to his statements, everything.”
As I walked to my car, my phone exploded with a call from Brandon. I let it go to voicemail. Then another call, and another.
Finally, a text.
What do you mean about the last paragraph? This is the will. I found it in her desk. Stop trying to cause problems.
I responded simply.
See you Thursday at the attorney’s office. Two o’clock. Don’t be late.
His reply was instant.
