Three weeks before Alexander’s death.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It was enclosed with the letter your father sent me. He gave me instructions not to open it unless you were safely in my care.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then open it.”
Gabriel’s fingers remained on the envelope.
“Your father was very specific. He wanted you to be present when it was opened, but he also wanted an attorney nearby.”
“Why would he need an attorney?”
“Because the contents may affect the trust.”
Rosa’s face grew concerned.
“Gabriel, what exactly did Alexander send you?”
He looked at her, then at me.
“I don’t know. I never opened it.”
I stared at the envelope.
The date was written in my father’s handwriting. The paper was slightly creased, as if it had been carried from one place to another before being stored away.
“Is it dangerous?” I asked.
