My hands trembled as I picked up the documents. The address was unfamiliar.
Why didn’t he tell me? Was this his way of trying to make up for everything?
One thing was clear. I had to see that house. It felt like the only way to uncover the truth.
When I finally arrived, the sight of the house sent a shiver through me.
It looked old but not neglected. The large windows caught the light, and the freshly painted porch contrasted with the moss-covered roof that gave it an almost storybook charm.
Yet, the unease in my chest grew heavier.
“This is it,” I murmured to myself, gripping the key the notary had handed me.
The key didn’t work. I frowned, trying again. The lock had been changed.
Biting my lip, I stepped around to peer through a window, hoping to get a better look inside.
“Can I help you?” a stern voice demanded.
