The Monday after Ridgewell's death, things started to return to normal. Because I grew up in Northern Virginia, I had heard about Ridgewell and his peculiar ways all my life, but the rest of the world really didn't care. My parents kept me updated through their local news; he had died of a heart attack, and his family would soon be gathering to view the will and shift through his assets.

Lucky bastards, I thought. The guy was rolling in dough. Even with his large family, they'd still each get a large chunk of money. Ridgewell never married and had no kids, but he had several siblings scattered across the US and Europe. They were all wealthy, but people like that wouldn't scoff at getting more money for free.

I folded up the newspaper that my mom had mailed me and set it on my coffee table. I groaned when I looked at my laptop. My newest article was glaring me in the face, still only halfway done. I scowled at it, like I expected the thing to write itself. Man, I hate writing sometimes. I only had two more days to write this piece, and it was going nowhere. Rockburn is gonna kill me if I don't have this done... My eyes felt droppy. Maybe a quick nap would help restore my creative juices... I shut the laptop and settled into my chair. Naps always seem the best when you're procrastinating.

A sharp knock at the door rocked me from my sleep. I bolted up and looked out the window; the sun was starting to sink beneath the city skyline. Crap, how long was I out?

I fumbled my way over to the door and opened it. A tall, lanky man in a crisp tuxedo stood before me. He looked awfully familiar.

"Mr. Hemker, how wonderful to see you again." The man said. Great, now I feel awkward for not remembering him. He smiled at me, which caused his large eyes to slightly bulge. His teeth were a bit longer than normal, which was kind of unsettling.

"Wait, you're-" My brain stumbled as I tried to remember who he was.

"Mr. Bernard," he said, saving me from embarrassment. "Master Ridgewell's butler."

"Yeah, I remember you." I was surprised that I forgotten about him. His lumbering height alone made him stand out.

"Uhh, what can I help you with?" I asked.

"I was instructed to give this to you, sir." He handed me an envelope which had my name written in delicate, sprawling handwriting.

"Instructed? By who?" I looked up at him, but he just smiled again, then bowed.

"I do hope to see you soon, Mr. Hemker." With that, he walked down the hall and turned the corner.

I stood in my doorway, looking like an idiot. "You too? I guess."