The moment Noah reached the opening line, I watched his face shift.
His eyebrows pulled together first, then his grip loosened slightly on the thick pages as if whatever he had expected to find inside that envelope was not what Mr. Vance had left for him.
The attorney stayed beside us without speaking.
Mr. Vance’s son and daughter were still a few rows away, but both of them had noticed Noah opening the envelope, and the room that had been slowly emptying after the service suddenly felt much smaller.
Noah read the first line again.
Then he looked at me.
“Mom.”
That was all he said.
I moved closer, but I didn’t reach for the page because the attorney had already made one thing clear: Mr. Vance had wanted this placed directly into Noah’s hands.
Whatever was written there belonged to my son first.
Noah swallowed and returned his eyes to the letter.
