Raymond led me into his office and shut the door. His hands were unsteady as he laid the check on the desk. “Mr. Whitaker, this check is genuine,” he said. “Your grandmother’s account holds a little over sixty million dollars. Her husband made her promise never to tell anyone.” I gripped the chair. The woman who reused tea bags and let her roof leak was richer than my whole family combined.

Then he lowered his voice. “She called me the morning after Christmas. She stopped payment on every other check, changed her will, and left a recording for you.” He pressed a button on a small speaker. Static filled the room, then my grandmother’s voice, thin and tired. “Nathan, if you are hearing this, then I need to tell you why I am afraid.” My stomach turned cold.