One file. Everything you need from it.
The client as a story. The judgment as artifacts. Your voice as the fastest pen — and twenty years of notes answering in a sentence. The examples below are illustrations, built on synthetic households.
A person, not a portfolio.
Open a household and meet the family before the balances — and trace any move to the note it stands on.
The ledger: systems, your hand, and Thursday’s moves — side by side.
Heirs are people in the file, with their own history and channels.
Hover a move — watch it find its sources.
Judgment you can hand across a table.
Briefs, letters and stories. Short video is in development; today a video is a script and storyboard, scene by scene, that you review.
Briefings assemble each day for the meetings in the week ahead — three moves, hallway-readable.
Stories draft in your firm’s voice, then queue for review.
Nothing reaches a client until it is approved.
Press play — the citation changes with the scene.
Say it while it’s fresh.
Talk for thirty seconds walking to the car. The file records your words verbatim and proposes what it noticed — nothing saves until you say so.
Your voice, on the record verbatim — signed and timestamped.
New people, liquidity signals, family dynamics — proposed as questions, never written as facts.
It listens against your own history: recall, not discovery.
Tap the mic.
Twenty years of judgment, searchable in a sentence.
Ask in plain language. The answer arrives assembled — with its sources attached, and honest about its edges.
Ask across the whole book, or inside one household’s file.
Every fact in an answer carries its source.
“Nobody has asked him — that question is yours” is the file knowing its edges.
Click the question.
Every view reads the same file — and the file is only as good as what you put in it.
Watch a Thursday assemble from one household’s notes.
See a Thursday