I Brought Groceries to My Elderly Neighbor Every Sunday for Twelve Years. After His Funeral, His Lawyer Handed Me a Suitcase I Never Expected.

But those were details Arthur had trusted me with, not weapons to use against his son.

“I wasn’t trying to claim his life,” I said.

“I was his friend.”

For an instant Richard’s expression changed.

Something like hurt moved beneath the anger.

Then it hardened again.

“We’ll see what a judge thinks,” he said.

They left without another word.