Chapter 6 - WHAT MY GRANDMOTHER HID
That night, I returned to my grandmother's old house.
Darcy insisted on coming with me.
The property had been locked since the funeral.
Dust covered the furniture.
Old photographs lined the hallway.
I walked into the study.
This was where my grandmother had spent most evenings.
I remembered sitting beside her as a child while she taught me chess.
I remembered her telling me that people revealed themselves when money was involved.
I had never understood what she meant.
Until now.
Darcy searched the bookshelves.
I opened drawers.
Nothing.
Then I remembered something.
My grandmother always kept a red chess piece on her desk.
A queen.
I found it in the bottom drawer.
When I turned it over, I noticed a tiny seam.
I pressed it.
The piece opened.
Inside was a small brass key.
Darcy stared.
“Do you know what that opens?”
“No.”
We searched the room.
Behind an old painting, we found a small metal safe.
The key fit.
Inside was a single envelope.
My name was written across it.
I opened it.
The first page was a letter.
Claire,
If you have found this, then you are finally old enough to know why I kept certain people away from you.
My hands trembled.
Your mother was not the person everyone believed she was.
I stopped.
Darcy watched silently.
I continued reading.
She discovered what I had found.
She tried to expose them.
They threatened her.
My throat tightened.
Then came the sentence that shattered everything.
Your mother did not die in an accident.
I dropped the letter.
“No.”
Darcy picked it up.
I couldn't breathe.
“My mother died in a car accident.”
“That is what the official report says.”
“She was driving home.”
“Yes.”
“So you're saying—”
“I’m saying your grandmother believed otherwise.”
I looked at the letter again.
The final paragraph read:
I could not prove who caused her death. But I know why she was targeted.
She refused to sign over the Whitmore assets.
I felt dizzy.
Darcy turned the page.
There was a list of names.
Victor Hale.
Eleanor Whitmore.
And one more name.
Julian Cole.
My husband.
I whispered:
“He was connected to this before we met.”
Darcy nodded.
Then we heard a sound downstairs.
A door closing.
We froze.
Someone was inside the house.
Darcy reached for her phone.
Footsteps moved through the hallway.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Coming toward the study.
I grabbed the letter.
The doorknob turned.
And then a voice came through the door.
“Claire?”
Julian.
I stared at Darcy.
“How did he know we were here?”
Darcy whispered:
“That is the question.”
The door opened.
Julian stood there.
But he wasn't alone.
May you like
Behind him was Victor Hale.
And Victor was holding an old photograph of my mother.
