Chapter 1 - Three Envelopes
My grandmother left me a house.
She left my brother a company.
And she left my sister nothing.
At least, that's what we thought.
The three of us were sitting inside the lawyer's office when he placed three identical black envelopes on the table.
My brother Daniel immediately laughed.
"Let me guess. She left the mansion to me."
My sister Olivia rolled her eyes.
"You've already been acting like you own it."
I said nothing.
For the last six months, my grandmother had refused to explain why she suddenly called all three of us home every Sunday.
She would sit in her old library, watch us carefully, and ask strange questions.
Who had we trusted?
What would we do for money?
And once, she asked me:
"If you discovered your family had lied to you your entire life, would you forgive them?"
I thought she was talking about my parents.
I was wrong.
The lawyer cleared his throat.
"Your grandmother left specific instructions."
Daniel leaned forward.
"About the inheritance?"
"About all three of you."
He opened a folder.
"Your grandmother's estate is worth approximately twenty-eight million dollars."
Daniel smiled.
Olivia sat up straighter.
I felt my stomach tighten.
The lawyer continued.
"But none of you receives your inheritance today."
Daniel's smile disappeared.
"What?"
"Your grandmother created three conditions."
He placed the first envelope in front of Daniel.
The second in front of Olivia.
Then the third in front of me.
"Each envelope contains a task."
Daniel picked his up immediately.
"What's the point?"
"If you complete your task within thirty days, you receive what was left to you."
"And if we don't?"
The lawyer looked at all three of us.
"Your inheritance goes to someone else."
Olivia frowned.
"Who?"
The lawyer hesitated.
"That information is sealed."
Daniel laughed.
"This is ridiculous."
He opened his envelope.
His expression changed.
I watched him read the first page.
Then his face became pale.
"What does it say?" Olivia asked.
Daniel folded the paper.
"Nothing."
The lawyer looked at him.
"Your grandmother specifically instructed me to remind you not to share the contents of your envelope."
Daniel glared at him.
Olivia opened hers next.
She read silently.
Then looked at me.
Her eyes were suddenly frightened.
"What?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
I slowly opened my envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
There were only two sentences.
Find the woman in Apartment 4B.
Do not tell her who you are.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at the lawyer.
"Who is she?"
"I don't know."
"Why does my grandmother want me to find her?"
"I don't know."
"Then how am I supposed to complete this?"
The lawyer pointed to the bottom of the page.
"There is one more instruction."
I looked down.
My heart stopped.
Before you meet her, find out why your grandmother paid her every month for eighteen years.
I looked up.
"She paid this woman?"
The lawyer nodded.
"According to the records, yes."
Daniel suddenly stood.
"That's impossible."
Everyone looked at him.
He had gone completely pale.
"You said Apartment 4B?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
Daniel stared at me.
Then he looked at Olivia.
Neither of them spoke.
I felt something change in the room.
"You both know something."
Daniel shook his head.
"No."
"Then why are you scared?"
He didn't answer.
The lawyer closed the folder.
"There is one final instruction from your grandmother."
He reached beneath the table and placed an old photograph in front of us.
It showed my grandmother standing outside an apartment building eighteen years ago.
Beside her was a young woman.
And in the woman's arms was a baby.
I stared at the photograph.
The baby was wearing a tiny silver bracelet.
A bracelet I recognized immediately.
Because I had worn the same bracelet every day until I was six.
My grandmother had told me it was the first gift she ever gave me.
My hands began to shake.
I looked at Daniel.
Then Olivia.
Then the photograph again.
The lawyer quietly said:
"Your grandmother wanted you to know one thing before she died."
I could barely speak.
"What?"
He looked directly at me.
"She said the three of you were never supposed to grow up together."
Silence filled the room.
And suddenly, the inheritance wasn't the most frightening thing anymore.
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The question was—
which one of us had been the child in that photograph?
