He walked into the kitchen, his tie loosened, his jacket slung over one shoulder.

His face was pale, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the air conditioning.

“Where is it?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Where is what, Graham?” I asked.

“My mother said she left a document with you,” he said, stepping closer.

“She said she gave it to you hours ago.”

“It’s on the desk in the study,” I said.

He turned on his heel and walked toward the study without another word.

I followed him slowly, keeping my distance.

He had already turned on the desk lamp and was staring at the folded paper Gloria had left.

His hand shook slightly as he reached for it.

He unfolded it, his eyes darting across the pages just as mine had done earlier.

“What is this?” he muttered to himself.

“She said it was a formality,” I said from the doorway.

Graham didn’t look at me.

He sat down in the leather chair, his face sinking into his hands.

“A formality,” he whispered.

“She has no idea.”