Daniel didn’t even pretend to be uncomfortable. He leaned back, resting one arm along the back of the couch, his gaze fixed on me like this was a meeting he’d scheduled weeks ago.
Sophia’s eyes flicked to my shoes, then to the floor, then back to my face. The corners of her mouth twitched, as if she were holding in a smile.
The man in the suit cleared his throat.
That was the moment I understood.
This wasn’t a conversation.
This was an announcement.
“Hana,” Daniel said, not getting up, not softening his voice. “We need to talk.”
I didn’t answer.
I stood there with my keys still in my hand, my heart beating too loudly in my ears, as if my body was trying to warn me.
The lawyer opened a leather folder and adjusted his glasses. He introduced himself, but his name slid right past me. All I could see was the folder—thick and official-looking—resting on his knee like a verdict.
He said he was there to read the will.
He didn’t ask me to sit down.
No one did.
I stayed where I was, near the door, as if my body already knew I might need to leave quickly.
He began to read.
His voice was calm, measured, professional—the kind of voice that never breaks, even when lives do.