But a week later, I got a letter. It was delivered by courier, and when I saw the handwriting, I froze—it was my grandfather’s. The paper was yellowed with age, and I could tell he had kept it for a long time, maybe even left specific instructions with his will for it to be delivered after his death.
My hands trembled as I opened the letter. It was short, almost cryptic: “Check the basement of the old house.”
I didn’t waste any time. I called Ben immediately. “Hey, it’s Alex. I need to stop by the house. There’s something I need to check in the basement.”