Aiden
A gentle knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Jacob Holland pokes his head in, a familiar face in an unfamiliar situation.
“Mr. Holland, it’s great to see you again,” I say, extending my hand, tension knotting my stomach.
“It’s been quite some time, Mr. Davis,” he replies, his grip firm but reassuring.
As he takes a seat, my mind races. My grandfather, Terry Davis, entrusted Jacob with more than legalities; he was a constant in my childhood. But today, as we’re here to discuss my trust fund, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off.
“How is your wife?” I ask, trying to find comfort in small talk.
“Doing well, thank you. I’ll let her know you said hi.” His smile falters slightly, and I sense a shift in the air.
“Your brother Dean has already received his trust fund,
