I pulled Mason behind me and held his shoulders tight. “Who sent you?” My voice shook, and my sleeves were still dusty with coffee grounds. The man didn’t flinch. “Mrs. Margaret Hollis sent me, ma’am. I’m Daniel Reyes, her attorney.” At her name, Mason peeked around my arm. “The lady with the dark glasses?” he whispered.

Daniel opened the back door of the middle SUV. On the leather seat lay a thick folder with our last name printed across it. Our name. Ours. “She wants you at her house by nine,” he said quietly. “Her grandsons are there now, and they think they inherit everything today.” He looked down at Mason. “But she says only one person can stop what happens at noon.” Then he held the folder out to my son.