I looked down at the letter in my hands, my thumb tracing the familiar, steady script of my husband’s handwriting.

My fingers shook against the crisp, heavy paper Garrett had always used for his personal stationery.

I read the next paragraph aloud, my voice barely more than a breath in the quiet kitchen.

“The wall safe behind the portrait of my mother in the library,” I read. “It is coded to your right hand, Eleanor.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“I registered your print in the biometric lock three years ago,” the letter continued. “I told you it was for your safety, but I knew then what they would try to do if I passed first.”

“Is that true, Arthur?” I asked, looking up. “Did he really do that?”

“He did,” Arthur said, nodding slowly. “I witnessed the installation myself. The safe cannot be opened by force without destroying the documents inside.”

“What documents are in there?” I asked.

“The true will,” Arthur said. “Along with the deeds to the land, the keys to the safety deposit box at the county bank, and the ledger of his personal accounts.”