Arthur Bennett was sitting in a green leather chair by the window.

He looked very old in the large chair, his hands resting on the curved handle of his wooden cane.

Next to him on the table sat a faded yellow envelope.

“Sadie,” Arthur said, his voice raspy but firm as he stood up.

“Arthur, thank you for coming,” I said, walking over to him.

“I should have brought this forward years ago,” Arthur said, gesturing to the envelope with a trembling hand.

“But your father threatened to evict my sister from her nursing home if I spoke up.”

“He cannot hurt anyone now,” Wyatt said, sitting on the edge of the desk.

Our lawyer, Marcus, walked out of his private office with his sleeves rolled up.

He had a pencil tucked behind his ear and a stack of folders under his arm.

“We have a major development,” Marcus said, looking at the yellow envelope.

“Arthur just gave me this.”

He reached into the envelope and pulled out a thick sheet of parchment.

It had a red wax seal at the bottom, cracked but still intact.