“He did it. In fact, I was supposed to bring it to you next week.” He paused. “Why don’t you come to my office right now?”
An hour later, I was sitting opposite Robert who was sliding a document across his desk.
“Ryan came to see me about six months ago,” he explained. “He was worried.”
I looked at the will, Ryan’s familiar signature at the bottom of the document sending me a fresh wave of grief.
