The house was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of the waves outside.

Suddenly, headlights swept across the kitchen window, yellow beams cutting through the dark.

I stood up, my muscles tensing as a car pulled into the gravel driveway.

I walked to the front door and looked through the small glass pane.

A figure was walking up the steps, shivering in the cool sea fog.

It was Rachel, Daniel’s sister, and she was clutching a thick manila envelope to her chest.

When I opened the door, she looked at me with pale, wide eyes.

“Clara, you need to see this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Before you sign anything on Monday.”

“Come inside,” I said, stepping back to let her pass.

The chill of the coastal fog followed her into the warm hallway.

She stood on the rug, her coat damp, shivering slightly as she held the envelope.

I closed the door and turned the lock.

“Is it Daniel?” I asked.

“It’s Daniel, and Patricia,” Rachel said, her voice barely a whisper.

She walked into the kitchen and sat at the wooden table.