Âm thanh chia sẻ

The meeting took place in my father’s old study. The room still smelled of his pipe tobacco and old leather books. It was a room where honest deals were made for fifty years. Sarah sat across from me, her eyes red from 'crying,' while David stood behind her, tapping his expensive fountain pen against his palm. 'Look, Michael,' Sarah said, her voice shaking with fake emotion. 'The estate is a mess. Taxes, upkeep, legal fees... it’s too much for one person to handle. David and I have talked to th