toward the door, then back at her.
“For what is about to happen.”
Before Jazelle could ask what he meant, he turned and left.
The library was full when she entered.
Arthur’s library had always been the heart of the house. The walls were lined with books from floor to ceiling. Leather chairs surrounded a fireplace that had not been lit that day, though the air felt cold enough for it. The mahogany table at the center of the room had hosted billion-dollar decisions, family dinners, birthday cakes, arguments, and quiet chess games between Arthur and Jazelle.
Now Brenda sat at the head of it.
She wore widowhood beautifully. Black silk. Diamonds. A veil pinned delicately in her hair. Her face was arranged into solemn lines, but satisfaction gleamed beneath the surface.
Caitlyn sat beside her, scrolling on her phone. On her finger was Arthur’s emerald ring, the one he had bought Jazelle’s grandmother long before Brenda ever entered the picture.
Jazelle noticed it immediately.
She said nothing.
Timothy opened a leather folder and began reading.
At first, everything unfolded exactly as Brenda had expected.
The mansion went to Brenda.
So did the cars.
So did the Monaco property, the lake house, the art collection, and several private investment accounts.
Caitlyn received two apartments, a jewelry collection, and a trust fund large enough to make her eyes widen before she remembered to lower them in fake grief.
Brenda pressed a hand to her heart.
“Arthur was so generous,” she murmured.
But she was smiling.
Caitlyn leaned toward Jazelle and whispered, “Do not look so tense. Maybe he left you the broom closet.”
Timothy turned to the final page.
His hands were shaking now.
“To my granddaughter, Jazelle Reyes,” he read, “I leave the sealed envelope marked with her name, currently held in the private file of this firm.”
That was it.
No money. No house. No account. No percentage.
Just an envelope.
For one full second, nobody reacted.
Then Caitlyn started laughing.
The laughter rose quickly, ugly and relieved. Brenda joined her, quieter but no less cruel.
Timothy reached into his folder and removed a yellowed envelope sealed with red wax. Jazelle’s name was written across the front in Arthur’s handwriting.
Her heart twisted at the sight of it.
Caitlyn wiped at the corner of her eye. “Open it. Please. I need to see this. Maybe he left you a grocery list.”
Brenda lifted her champagne. “Arthur was sentimental toward the end. Dying people often become confused.”
Jazelle broke the seal.
Inside was one folded sheet of paper.
She unfolded it carefully.
There was no letter. No apology. No explanation.
Only a phone number.
Beneath it, Arthur had written three words.
Call after reading.
Caitlyn nearly doubled over.
“Oh my God,” she said. “It is probably his unpaid medical bills. Maybe the hospital wants someone to settle the last invoices.”
The room chuckled because people were cruelest when they thought the powerful person had already won.
Jazelle stared at the number.
Take what I leave you, no matter how small it looks.
She pulled out her phone.
Brenda’s smile faded.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling,” Jazelle said.
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “This is embarrassing.”
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then a man answered.
“Sterling Global Holdings, emergency succession office.”
Jazelle’s
