Chapter 3 - The Safe My Grandmother Never Wanted Him to Find
Wren House had belonged to the Bellamy family for seventy-three years.
My grandmother bought it with her husband in 1953, back when the road outside was dirt and the nearest grocery store was fifteen miles away.
Over the decades, she'd restored almost every room herself.
The library.
The conservatory.
The stone terrace.
Even the old servants' quarters, which she converted into offices when she founded Bellamy Restoration Group.
She used to tell me:
“Old houses aren't valuable because they're perfect, Emma. They're valuable because somebody cared enough to keep them standing.”
After she died, Ethan immediately wanted to renovate.
Remove the original windows.
Replace the library with a home theater.
Sell the antique furniture.
I said no.
He called me sentimental.
Now I understood why he'd been so eager to take control of the property.
There was something inside it he didn't want me to find.
Three days after my surgery, Margaret returned to the hospital.
She carried a small velvet pouch.
I stared.
“What is that?”
She opened it.
Inside was my grandmother's gold brooch.
A little bird perched on a branch.
I'd seen her wear it every Sunday.
Margaret placed it in my hand.
“Turn it over.”
I did.
A tiny metal pin extended from the back.
At first, I thought it was part of the fastening.
Then I noticed a narrow seam.
I pressed it.
The back opened.
Inside was a miniature brass key.
I stared.
“Grandma.”
Rebecca leaned closer.
“She hid a key in her jewelry?”
Margaret smiled faintly.
“Your grandmother enjoyed being prepared.”
I looked up.
“What does it open?”
“A compartment inside her private safe.”
The following morning, Margaret and a licensed locksmith entered Wren House under an authorized arrangement.
I wasn't there.
I was still recovering.
But Rebecca joined them.
She called me afterward.
“Emma?”
I sat up.
“What happened?”
“Grandma's safe is ridiculous.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“How ridiculous?”
“It's behind the bookshelves in the library.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course it is.”
“And the key opened a second compartment.”
My heart began pounding.
“What was inside?”
“Documents.”
“What documents?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Emma, there's a lot.”
Then she took a breath.
“Company ledgers. Copies of bank transfers. Emails.”
My stomach tightened.
“Ethan?”
“His name is everywhere.”
I closed my eyes.
Rebecca continued.
“There are records involving a company called Alderstone Holdings.”
I frowned.
“I've never heard of it.”
“Neither had I.”
“Who owns it?”
Rebecca went silent.
“Rebecca?”
She swallowed.
“Victoria.”
My stomach tightened.
Our mother-in-law had never worked a day for Bellamy Restoration Group.
Yet the company had allegedly transferred millions to a business she controlled.
Then Rebecca said:
“There's something else.”
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
“A second owner.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“Chloe.”
My sister.
My little sister.
The girl I'd taken to school.
Helped through college.
Loaned money to when her first business failed.
The woman I'd trusted enough to let her into my home.
Now her name appeared beside Victoria's in the documents.
I pressed my hand against my chest.
“No.”
Rebecca's voice softened.
“I'm sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe properly.
Then I remembered the purple dress.
The way Chloe stood beside Ethan.
The way she asked whether I'd signed anything.
I opened my eyes.
“How much money?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“According to the preliminary records, almost four million dollars.”
I stared.
Four million.
I thought about the employees who had worked for Grandma for decades.
The carpenters.
Architects.
Office staff.
The restoration crews.
Last Christmas, Ethan told me we couldn't afford the annual bonus program.
He said the economy was difficult.
He said everyone needed to make sacrifices.
Apparently, everyone except his mother and my sister.
Margaret took the phone.
“Emma.”
“Yes?”
“These records still need independent verification. We can't assume every transaction is fraudulent simply because it's suspicious.”
I nodded.
“But Grandma thought something was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“Then let's find out what.”
Margaret was quiet.
Then she said:
“There's a letter for you.”
My heart tightened.
“Read it.”
She opened the envelope.
My grandmother's words came through the phone.
My darling Emma,
If you've opened this compartment, I suspect someone has finally tried to take what I left you.
I began crying.
Margaret continued.
I hope I'm wrong.
But if I'm not, remember that inheritance is not a reward for obedience.
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
You are allowed to refuse your husband.
You are allowed to refuse your sister.
You are even allowed to refuse me.
My eyes filled.
Then came the final paragraph.
I have made arrangements concerning the options and privileges Ethan expects to receive from the Bellamy estate.
He believes those benefits are guaranteed.
They are not.
I stared at the phone.
Margaret paused.
Then continued.
Ask Margaret about Section Fourteen.
My heart began pounding.
Section Fourteen.
The clause I'd remembered in the ambulance.
Grandma had known.
She hadn't known about the brick.
But she'd known enough to make sure Ethan's attempt to coerce me could have consequences beyond our divorce.
I wiped my face.
“Margaret?”
May you like
“Yes?”
“Tell me exactly what Section Fourteen says.”
