Chapter 3 - The Declaration
The old man held the warm coffee cup in one hand and the brown bag in the other, looking between the young receptionist and the furious manager. The raw, biting cold outside seemed to press against the glass windows like a physical threat, but inside, a subtle shift had occurred.
"You lost your job because of me," the old man said softly, a heavy weight of regret lacing his words as he looked at Leo's ID badge.
Leo turned back to him, his expression remarkably calm. "I just did what was right," he said quietly, offering a simple nod of defiance toward Pendelton.
Pendelton pulled a small black walkie-talkie from his belt. "Security, I need a team in the main lobby immediately to escort two trespassers—"
Before Pendelton could finish his sentence, the old man unbuttoned the top of his wet, dirty dark blue coat. Reaching deep into an inner waterproof pocket, his weathered, dirt-streaked fingers didn't pull out a crumpled newspaper or loose change. They pulled out a customized, matte-black smartphone—a state-of-the-art prototype built with cryptographic hardware encryption.
He tapped the screen with practiced speed, bringing the phone to his ear. His hunched back straightened, his weathered shoulders squared, and his tired eyes sharpened into two points of cold, piercing intelligence.
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"This is Walter Bennett," the old man said into the speaker, his voice transforming from a ragged rasp into a resonant, authoritative baritone that commanded the entire room. "I found him. I found my heir. Bring the will."
Leo froze, his eyes locking onto the man as a sudden, breathless silence fell across the lobby. Pendelton lowered his walkie-talkie, his face draining of all color.
