The next morning, Shantel awoke feeling more drained than someone fresh off a double night shift. Her sleep had been shallow and broken, haunted by unsettling dreams of her visit to Old Carter's place.
When she glanced at the clock and saw it was already 6:20 a.m., she sighed in relief and got out of bed.
After making sure her grandmother had everything she needed for the morning, she grabbed her keys and headed to Old Carter's new house which was just fifteen minutes drive from her grandmother's villa.
The old man, as if he'd envisaged her early arrival, was already up and seated on the patio, sipping coffee like he owned time itself.
He offered her a seat and, after their usual back-and-forth banter, his demeanor turned serious as he slid a thick envelope across the table toward her.
"Wait," he said, stopping her hand with one word before she could touch it.
Shantel raised a brow but said nothing.
