I stared at him. “She… put something in my mailbox? What?”

He nodded.

I gripped the couch, my mind spinning. “What could she have left me?”

He gave a small, sad smile. “Let’s find out together.”

Outside, a neighbor’s child rode his bike back and forth, glancing at my house. Ms. Pearson stood across the street, arms crossed.

My hands trembled as I unlocked the mailbox. It felt heavier than usual, the edges biting into my palm. I opened it, heart racing.

Inside was a thick manila envelope with my name written neatly. Behind it was a thinner one from the bank, stamped with “PAID IN FULL” in red.

My knees gave out.

Holt steadied me. “You okay?”

“I… I don’t understand,” I whispered. “How…?”

He nodded toward the envelope. “Let’s open it together.”

My fingers shook as I opened it. Papers slid out—legal documents, the deed—and a folded note with my name. I handed it to Holt, unable to see through my tears.

“May I?” he asked softly.

I nodded.

He unfolded it carefully, removed his hat, and turned slightly toward me, lowering his voice.

“I’m not usually the one who does this,” he said quietly.