The air hung heavy with tension as the family, embroiled in their own webs of deceit, hesitated on the doorstep. The man with the briefcase, still clutching his papers like a shield, glanced at my parents and Julia. They exchanged quick, uncertain glances, the smugness on their faces wavering ever so slightly.
The door of the sleek black sedan swung open, and out stepped a figure whose very presence seemed to command attention. Dressed in impeccable attire, with an air of quiet authority, my grandfather’s longtime friend and attorney, Mr. Harris, emerged. His gaze was steady, unfazed by the spectacle unfolding before him.
Julia’s confidence wavered as she watched Mr. Harris approach. “Who is this?” she demanded, her voice not quite as steady as before.
