That’s when my phone rang.
The name on the screen made my stomach drop: Charles Whitman’s attorney.
Kevin saw it too. His entire posture shifted instantly—straightening, confident again, almost smug.
“Put it on speaker,” he said.
I don’t know why I did. Maybe I was too numb. Maybe something in me already knew the story wasn’t over.
“Ms. Hayes?” the voice on the line said. Calm. Professional. “This is Robert Collins, attorney for the estate of Charles Whitman. Am I calling at a bad time?”
Kevin jumped in. “This is Kevin Brooks, his nephew. I assume you’re calling about the inheritance transfer.”
There was a pause.
“Actually,” the lawyer said carefully, “I was trying to reach your wife.”
My grip tightened around the phone. Kevin frowned.
“There must be a mistake,” he said.
“There isn’t,” Mr. Collins replied. “Ms. Hayes, your late great-uncle Charles named you as the primary beneficiary of his estate six years ago. We’ve been trying to confirm your details.”
I felt like the floor tilted.
“My great-uncle… Charles?”
Kevin laughed, sharp and disbelieving. “That’s impossible. He was my uncle.”
Papers shuffled faintly on the other end.