Margret stood up from the stone bench and walked toward the designated guest drop-off area near the main entrance.
She stopped beside a row of black folding chairs set up near the side exit next to a large waste receptacle.
The older woman quietly places the envelope onto a black folding chair beside a trash bin labeled "Margret."[cite: 1]
SFX: Soft placement[cite: 1]
Margret: They labeled my entire legacy as trash. Let's see if they have the courage to pick it up.
She adjusted the strap of her blue dress, ensuring the envelope was propped up where anyone exiting through the side door would immediately spot it.
Margret: If my son cared even a fraction about our family name, he would check what's inside before signing away the trust.
A sleek black sedan pulled up quietly to the curb, its engine idling with a low, smooth purr.
The older woman silently hands a set of car keys to a fair-skinned American man in a business suit[cite: 1].
SFX: Keys jangling[cite: 1]
Driver: Are you ready to head to the federal courthouse, Mrs. Hall?
Margret: Yes, Thomas. Let's go file the injunction before the reception dinner begins.
Driver: Are you sure you want to go through with this? Once we file, there's no turning back for your son's company.
Margret: He made his bed when he locked me out of my own home. Drive.
Will anyone notice the critical document left behind on the chair before the wedding festivities spiral completely out of control?
Margret: The clock is ticking for them.