“I don’t have much time,” Sean said. “Your brother owes a lot of money to some very dangerous people.”

“I know,” I said. “My parents have been using my grandmother’s estate to pay off his debts.”

“They aren’t just using it,” Sean said, leaning closer. “They stole it from you.”

He reached into his backpack, which was resting on the seat beside him.

He pulled out a thick, legal-sized envelope made of white Tyvek.

It was sealed with a silver adhesive strip.

“What is that?” I asked.

“This is the original will,” Sean said. “The real one. The one your grandmother signed before she passed.”

He slid the envelope across the table.

My hands trembled as I reached out to touch the cold plastic.

“How do you have this, Sean?” I asked.

“Your grandmother didn’t trust your father,” Sean said. “She knew he would try to rewrite history to save Brandon.”

“She gave a duplicate original to my father,” he continued. “My father was her accountant for thirty years.”

“Before my dad died last year, he told me to keep this safe. He told me Brandon would eventually come for your share.”