The conference room was dimly lit, the air tinged with the faint scent of old paper and fresh coffee. I sat across from my brother, a stack of documents splayed between us on the polished oak table. The one that caught my eye was a manila folder, slightly crumpled at the edges. “Read this,” he said quietly, sliding it towards me. As I hesitated, my eyes flicked to the bold print on the top: “Estate Valuation Report – July 15, 2023.” I felt a prickle of unease. Inside was a world I hadn’t wanted to consider.
“I thought you’d want to see it first,” he added, his voice calm, almost detached. I nodded, unsure where this would lead, but knowing there was more beneath the surface. Could this change everything?
As I opened the folder, the room seemed to hold its breath. The figures were stark, typed in a neat column down the page. A valuation that seemed, at first glance, surprisingly low. I glanced up at my brother, searching for some hint of what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable.
“It’s not just numbers,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s about what they mean for us.” His words hung in the air, laden with implication. I shifted in my seat, the leather creaking softly beneath me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He leaned back, folding his arms. “Dad’s instructions were specific. He wanted everything split evenly. But…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the table.
“But what?” I pressed gently, sensing the weight of what was unsaid.
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