It was a Tuesday. I’d just finished a shift at the flower shop when I got a call from a weird number. I almost ignored it. But something told me to answer.
“Hello?”
“Yes…”
“This is attorney Charles Adebayo. I’m handling your grandfather’s estate. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
My heart did a weird skip. Grandpa Raj? He passed away when I was fifteen. We weren’t close—Dad had been weirdly secretive about him, always calling him “a stubborn old man.”
“I thought he didn’t leave anything behind,” I said cautiously.
“Well,” Charles replied, “that’s not exactly true. He left a trust. And you’re the sole beneficiary.”
I sat down right there on the flower shop’s front step, surrounded by broken petals and traffic noise.
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