“Thank you so much, Mr.

Bellamy.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” he said, straightening his cuff links.

“I’m carrying out Walter’s exact instructions.”

We stepped out into the seventh-floor hallway, where tall glass windows looked out across downtown Charlotte.

Yellow pine pollen clung to the outer window frames, washed into thin streaks by the morning rain.

“Judge Vance will start the estate hearing at exactly nine in the morning,” Mr.

Bellamy said, his leather shoes clicking evenly on the floor tiles.