Melinda’s POV
The envelope was plain.
Cream-colored.
No stamp.
No sender.
It was slipped under the front door sometime between breakfast and the school run — the same way that first letter from Lena had arrived months ago.
But this wasn’t from family.
There was no note.
No signature.
Just a folded document inside.
And the moment I unfolded it, my heart dropped into my stomach.
Because I knew that font.
That header.
That structure.
It was a will.
Andrew Holt’s will.
The missing one.
The one the courts claimed was never filed.
The one his legal team swore didn’t exist after his death.
And it had my name all over it.
I stared at it in the kitchen, elbows on the counter, coffee gone cold beside me.
James hadn’t come down yet.
The twins were at school. Carrie was off-site
