“Nothing’s been lost.”

Patricia folded her arms, her rings clicking against the wooden armrest.

Thomas took a pair of silver-rimmed reading glasses from his pocket and settled them on his nose.

“We’re here for the formal reading of the Last Will and Testament of Walter Eugene Ashford, signed on the tenth of October.”

Spencer shifted in his seat, the leather creaking under him as he stared at the red wax seal on the envelope.

“The document I’m holding overrides every earlier filing,” Thomas went on, sliding a flat ivory letter opener under the wax seal and slitting the heavy paper open in one clean, steady motion.