The sound of papers rustling fills my office as the lawyer my grandma brought with her reads through the documents I handed her—the files containing details about my mother's shares.
The air is heavy, and I can't blink. My eyes are set on the woman seated next to my grandma on the other side of my desk, dressed in a black suit like the rest of us as if this is a funeral. In a sense, it is. This document assessment ceremony serves to prove whether or not I can claim my mother's shares from my family, and we're all holding on to the last string of hope even though it's barely visible.
The lawyer lets out a low hiss, shaking her head in disappointment, a signal I was hoping she wouldn't show so early in the assessment.
