My uncle died on a Tuesday, which seemed fitting since he always said Tuesdays were when interesting things happened. The lawyer’s letter arrived Friday. “You’ve been named in the will of Theodore Blackwell. Your presence is required at the reading. Attendance is mandatory for inheritance distribution.” I hadn’t seen Uncle Theo in fifteen years. Hadn’t spoken to him since the incident that split our family apart. Now he was dead, and apparently, he had something to say about it. The estate was worth forty million dollars. There were seven heirs. And according to the letter, only one of us would inherit everything. The rest would get nothing. The criteria? “The heir who solves the mystery of my death inherits my fortune.” Uncle Theo had turned his own murder into a game. And we were all players whether we wanted to be or not.
A passionate storyteller whose writing blends vivid imagination with emotional depth, crafting unforgettable adventures that explore courage, humanity, and the timeless power of hope.View all by Vinnier Joseph
