THE LAWYER SAID “NEXT OF KIN” BUT I’D NEVER SEEN HIM BEFORE
I was hunched over the coffee shop table, staring at my half-finished novel, when the tall man in the dark suit approached. He held a thick, yellowed envelope, and a faint scent of old paper and something like cedarwood clung to his expensive suit. He didn’t even buy a coffee; he just stood there, his dark eyes fixed on me, then slowly gestured to the empty chair opposite. My heart began to thump against my ribs.
“Ms. Davies?” he finally asked, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that cut through the cafe’s gentle murmur. “My name is Arthur Finch. I represent the estate of Mr. Elias Roth. He passed away yesterday afternoon, and he named you as the sole beneficiary in his last will and testament.” My stomach clenched, my mind racing. Who *was* Elias Roth? I’d never heard that name in my life.
I wanted to ask a dozen questions, but the words wouldn’t form. His face was unreadable. “It’s… unusual, I know,” he continued, placing the envelope carefully on the table between us. “But his instructions were very clear. He requested that you be informed immediately, before anything else.” A sudden, loud clatter of a dropped tray from the counter made me jump.
He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “There’s a small, very specific condition attached to this inheritance, Ms. Davies. Something quite… peculiar.” The low hum of the espresso machine suddenly felt deafening, and a strange coldness crept up my arms, despite the warmth of my half-empty mug.
Then he opened the envelope, and I saw a faded photograph of *my* grandmother.
👇 Full story continued in the comments…I finally found my voice, the words a shaky whisper. “My grandmother? But… she died years ago.”
Finch nodded slowly, his expression unchanging. “Yes, I am aware. Mr. Roth knew her, or at least, knew of her. The condition is this: you must locate and deliver a specific object to a pre-determined location, within thirty days. If you fail, the inheritance reverts to the state.”
The silence in the coffee shop felt thick, heavy. I picked up the photograph. It was a picture I’d never seen before – my grandmother, younger, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, standing in front of what looked like a grand, gothic house. The house was unfamiliar, but the set of her jaw, the way she held herself, it was undeniably her.
“What object?” I managed to ask, my throat dry.
Finch tapped the envelope again. “The details are inside, along with the location. I am only the messenger, Ms. Davies. My role is to facilitate, not to explain.” He pushed the envelope towards me. “Do you accept the terms?”
The offer was absurd. A complete stranger leaves me a fortune, with a weird condition tied to it. But the house in the picture, the connection to my grandmother, it felt… unavoidable. It was like a thread I had to pull, no matter where it led.
I took a deep breath. “Yes,” I said, my voice stronger this time. “I accept.”
Finch offered a thin smile, which didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Excellent. The clock starts now.” He stood, the scent of cedarwood and old paper following him as he moved to leave. Before he stepped out the door, he turned back. “One final thing, Ms. Davies. Be careful. Mr. Roth was a man of… secrets.” And then he was gone.
I opened the envelope. Inside, there was a letter, a detailed map to a remote coastal town, and a single, delicate key. The letter revealed the object I was to find: a small, silver locket. The location was a crumbling lighthouse overlooking the sea.
The next thirty days were a whirlwind. I followed the map, drove to the coast, navigated the treacherous path to the lighthouse, and found the locket hidden inside a dusty old book. The key fit perfectly. Inside the locket was a miniature portrait of my grandmother, but this time, with a man she’d never mentioned in life. The same man as the will maker, Elias Roth.
Days later, I found myself back in the coffee shop. Finch was there waiting for me, but this time he wasn’t alone. He looked different, less imposing, almost… defeated. Beside him stood a woman I recognized as a private investigator.
“The locket,” Finch said without preamble, “did you find it?”
“Yes,” I replied, holding it in my palm.
He looked relieved, but there was a lingering sadness in his eyes. “Mr. Roth’s wishes were fulfilled. But there is more.” He introduced the investigator and explained that Elias Roth’s mysterious dealings had come under investigation after his death. That the inheritance came with many strings, and that I had inadvertently become entangled in a decades-old conspiracy involving espionage and the theft of priceless artifacts. The locket wasn’t a symbol of love; it was a signal, a trigger.
The investigator clarified, the locket was not a signal to start something but a final message, the completion of the deceased Roth’s secret mission. Roth wanted me, his last surviving kin, to finish his work by locating and delivering the locket, thus revealing his secrets.
My inheritance was not a gift but a debt.
They were watching me closely now. I understood that, at any moment, someone from the shadows might come after me, but now, I was no longer as scared. I had a mission, the secrets of my grandmother and Elias Roth, and a locket to safeguard. I felt a profound sense of purpose.
I closed my hand around the locket, a smile playing on my lips. I had a story to write, now. And this time, I wasn’t writing about a protagonist. I was the protagonist.