He reached into his wet coat, pulled out a black electronic signature pad, and pointed a plastic stylus at it.

“Sign here, please.”

Julian took the stylus with a trembling hand and scribbled his name on the screen.

The courier handed over the thick manila envelope, which was sealed with red tamper-evident tape.

“Have a good night,” the man said.

He turned, unlocked the heavy glass door, and stepped back out into the Denver rain.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a puddle of dirty water on the tiled floor.

“What is that?” Margaret asked, her voice sharp as glass.

She stepped out from the shadow of the hallway, her face pale under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Ethan followed close behind her, his eyes darting between me and the envelope in Julian’s hands.

“It’s none of your business, Margaret,” Samuel said, stepping in front of Julian.

“This is my clinic,” Margaret said, her chest rising and falling quickly.

“Actually, it’s your late husband’s clinic, and Julian still has administrative access,” Samuel replied.

Julian was already tearing the red tape off the top of the envelope.