I read the six words again.

“Ask about your grandfather’s final will.”

For a moment, the hospital room disappeared around me.

My grandfather had been dead for almost seven years.

As far as I knew, there was nothing mysterious about his estate.

Grandpa Henry had owned several acres of land, an old farmhouse, and a small collection of rental properties.

After he died, my father told Melanie and me that most of it had been sold to settle debts.

I had never questioned him.

Why would I?

He was my father.

But now an estate attorney I had never met was sending me a message hours after my father attacked me.

That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Call him,” I whispered.

Wyatt looked toward the doctors preparing outside my room.

“Now?”

“Now.”

He dialed the number on Samuel Grayson’s card.

A man answered after two rings.

“Mr. Grayson?”

There was a pause.

“Yes.”

“My name is Wyatt Cole. You left your card for Sadie.”

Another pause.

Then the man’s voice changed.

“Is she safe?”

Wyatt looked at me.

“For the moment.”

“Good.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Samuel Grayson. I represented Henry Bennett.”

My grandfather.

My heart began pounding.

“What does his will have to do with Sadie?”

Samuel was silent for several seconds.

Then he said something that made Wyatt sit down.

“Everything.”

My surgery couldn’t wait.

Before I was taken away, Samuel agreed to meet us the following morning.

The next several hours passed in fragments.

Bright lights.

Quiet voices.

Wyatt holding my hand.

Then darkness.

When I woke, Wyatt was beside me.

“You’re okay,” he said.

I closed my eyes in relief.

Then I remembered.

“The attorney.”

“He’s coming.”

Samuel Grayson arrived shortly after nine.

The moment he entered my hospital room, I recognized him.

He was the elderly man behind my parents’ curtain.

“You were there.”

He nodded.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Samuel placed an old leather briefcase beside the chair.

“Because your father asked me to come.”

That was the last answer I expected.

“My father?”

“Yes.”

Samuel opened his briefcase.

“He wanted me to sign documents concerning your grandfather’s estate.”

“What documents?”

“Documents I refused to sign.”

He removed a thick folder.

Then he looked directly at me.

“Sadie, much of what you’ve been told about your grandfather’s estate is false.”

I stared at him.

“My father said Grandpa had debts.”

“Your grandfather had almost no debt.”

My stomach tightened.

Samuel continued.

“He owned the farmhouse, seventy-three acres of surrounding land, four rental properties, and several investment accounts.”

Wyatt leaned forward.

“And who inherited them?”

Samuel’s eyes remained on me.

“You did.”

I thought I’d misunderstood.

“What?”

“Your grandfather left the majority of his estate to you.”

I couldn’t speak.

“Why me?”

Samuel smiled sadly.

“Because he trusted you.”

Grandpa Henry and I had always been close.

When I was little, he taught me how to plant tomatoes behind the farmhouse.

When I became a teenager, he taught me how to drive his ancient pickup truck.

He used to tell me that character mattered more than money.

But I never imagined he’d left his life’s work to me.

“What about Melanie?”

I asked.

“She received a separate trust.”

“And Dad?”

“Your grandfather left him a modest amount.”

Samuel hesitated.

“There was a reason.”

“What reason?”

“Your grandfather didn’t trust your father with the property.”

That explained more than I wanted it to.

Samuel opened another folder.

“Your grandfather’s will included safeguards. You were supposed to receive control of the estate when you reached the age specified in the trust documents.”

I stared at him.

“That happened years ago.”

“Yes.”

“So why didn’t I?”

Samuel’s expression hardened.

“Because someone concealed information from you.”

The room went cold.

“My father?”

“I can’t tell you what a court will ultimately conclude. But I can tell you what my records show.”

He placed copies of letters on the table.

Notices had been mailed.

Documents had been prepared.

Meetings had been requested.

Again and again, communication had been redirected through my father.

I remembered moving apartments around that time.

Dad had insisted I keep using his address for “important family mail.”

Suddenly, that innocent suggestion didn’t feel innocent at all.

Then Samuel explained why he’d been at the house.

My father had contacted him three days earlier.

He wanted Samuel to approve paperwork connected to a proposed sale of part of Grandpa’s land.

Samuel became suspicious.

He knew the property wasn’t my father’s to sell freely.

So he requested an in-person meeting.

When Samuel arrived that afternoon, he heard the argument outside.

Then he saw the attack.

“You witnessed it?”

I asked.

His face tightened.

“Yes.”

That meant there weren’t six witnesses anymore.

There were seven.

And Samuel wasn’t just another neighbor who had heard shouting.

He had witnessed what happened while carrying records connected to a possible financial motive.

Detective Beckett returned later that morning.

Samuel spoke with him privately.

The conversation lasted almost an hour.

When the detective came back, his expression was serious.

“This investigation has expanded.”

My pulse quickened.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’re looking at more than what happened on the lawn.”

He wouldn’t give me details.

But he didn’t need to.

I understood.

The attack had opened a door my parents desperately wanted closed.

Click Here to continuous Read​​​​ Full Ending Story👉Part3 — The Will They Tried to Bury