Chapter 3 - The Gathering at the Attorney’s Office
The conference room inside Mr. Alton’s downtown law office looked like something straight out of a corporate drama. Sunlight poured through tall floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the rich mahogany conference table and the leather executive chairs arranged around it.
Promptly at ten o'clock, the door swung open, and my family swept into the room with an air of absolute entitlement.
My mother strutted in wearing a sharp white blazer over her black dress, her designer heels clicking rhythmically against the carpet. My uncle followed closely behind, constantly straightening his tie and wearing a smug expression of quiet victory. My cousin dropped heavily into a chair near the center of the table, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head, looking like a man who was already mentally spending money he hadn't yet inherited.
Not a single one of them bothered to say hello to me. My mother merely offered a dismissive, patronizing nod, as if I were a minor employee who had accidentally wandered into a boardroom reserved for executives.
A few moments later, Mr. Alton, a distinguished older attorney with wire-rimmed glasses and a neat gray mustache, walked into the room carrying a thick leather-bound folder, a sealed manila envelope, and a small, weathered wooden box. He moved with deliberate slowness, placing the items at the head of the table before sitting down and folding his hands neatly in front of him.
“Good morning,” Mr. Alton said, his deep voice carrying an undeniable gravity. “We are here today for the formal reading of the last will and testament of Walter H. Green.”
My mother immediately leaned forward across the table, her eyes gleaming with undisguised greed. “Let’s not waste any time, Mr. Alton. We’re all well aware of my father’s successful business ventures in recent years. We’re ready to hear the distribution details.”
My cousin flashed a triumphant grin at my uncle.
Mr. Alton did not smile back. Instead, he calmly removed his glasses, folded them, and placed them on the wooden table. He turned his gaze away from my mother and looked directly at me.
“Miss Caroline,” the attorney said clearly, “your grandfather left specific, unalterable instructions that must be carried out before I open the legal documents.”
My mother frowned instantly, her eyebrows knitting together in irritation. “Instructions? What kind of instructions? She’s just a kid—she doesn't need to do anything. Just read the asset allocation!”
“Please remain quiet, Madam,” Mr. Alton said coldly, maintaining absolute professional composure. He slid the small wooden box across the polished table toward my seat. “Miss Caroline, please open the box.”
Every eye in the room snapped toward me. My heart hammered against my ribs, but my hands remained steady. I reached out, grasped the brass clasp of the weathered wooden box, and lifted the hinged lid.
Inside, resting on a bed of dark velvet, was Grandpa’s old silver pocket watch—the very one he had wound every single morning for decades. Right beside it lay a folded, handwritten letter written in his familiar, slightly shaky handwriting.
And underneath the letter sat a sleek, modern black flash drive.
My mother stared at the contents of the box, her expression shifting from confusion to outright disdain. “A watch? Some sentimental junk and a flash drive? Is this a joke? Where are the property deeds? Where are the bank accounts?”
Mr. Alton ignored her completely. He reached into the box, picked up the flash drive, and turned toward the wall-mounted multimedia screen at the front of the conference room. Without saying another word, he inserted the flash drive into the console.
The large conference monitor flickered to life. For one long, agonizing second, the screen remained pitch black.
Then, the display illuminated.
Grandpa appeared on the screen.
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He was sitting right there in his favorite blue armchair by the living room window, wearing the comfortable cardigan I had bought him for Christmas two years prior. He looked vibrant, healthy, and completely at peace.
My breath caught instantly in my throat, and a hot tear spilled over my eyelashes. Across the table, my mother went completely rigid, her face draining of all color as if she were staring directly at a ghost.
