Chapter 10: The Document Hidden in My Grandfather's House
"Michael is going there tonight to destroy it.""
Vanessa's words echoed in my head.
I gripped the phone so tightly my fingers hurt.
"Why would my grandfather sign something that could give Brandon control of my inheritance?""
"He didn't sign it to give Brandon anything," Vanessa whispered.
"That's what Michael wants everyone to believe.""
"Then what did he sign?""
"I don't know everything. But I saw the original document in Michael's office. He keeps it inside a locked cabinet.""
"Why are you telling me this now?""
There was a long silence.
Then Vanessa answered.
"Because Brandon told me he was going to leave me.""
I almost laughed.
"That's your reason?""
"No. Listen to me. He told me he was going to leave me with nothing. He said the money in my account would be enough to disappear, and I'd never see him again.""
"Welcome to the club.""
"Emily, I'm serious.""
"So am I. You helped him steal from my family.""
"I know.""
"You laughed when he pushed me into the pool.""
Her voice broke.
"I know.""
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, I could hear nothing but her breathing.
Then she said something unexpected.
"Brandon also has a copy of your grandfather's original will. The document proves that Michael has been lying about the trust for twenty-five years.""
I looked at my father.
He had moved closer to hear the conversation.
"Vanessa, where is the house?""
"The old Carter estate outside Savannah. The one your grandfather used as his private residence.""
I remembered it immediately.
My grandfather's old house had been closed since his death. My father occasionally visited to inspect the property, but nobody had lived there for years.
"Why would Michael go there tonight?""
"Because he knows the lawyers are looking for the document.""
I looked at Patricia.
She immediately shook her head.
"Don't go there without law enforcement.""
I returned my attention to the phone.
"Vanessa, can you send me the address of Michael's office and tell me exactly where you saw the document?""
"Yes.""
"And why should I trust you?""
She didn't answer.
Then she whispered, "You shouldn't. But you should know that Michael was the one who introduced Brandon to you.""
I froze.
"What?""
"At the charity fundraiser where you met him. Michael arranged the introduction. Brandon already knew who you were.""
The room went silent.
I remembered that evening.
Brandon had approached me with a glass of champagne and a charming smile.
He'd said he'd noticed me across the room.
He'd asked about my grandfather.
He'd known my favorite childhood restaurant.
I'd thought we'd simply had a remarkable connection.
Now I wondered how much of it had been rehearsed.
I ended the call.
My father sat down slowly.
"Richard," Patricia said, "we need to contact the authorities immediately.""
He nodded.
"Do it.""
I looked at him.
"Dad, I want to go to Savannah.""
"No.""
"That document could explain everything.""
"Emily, this is no longer a family disagreement. There may be evidence of long-term financial fraud.""
"Exactly. And if Michael destroys it, we may never know what happened.""
Patricia considered my words.
"She's right about the evidence. But we cannot allow her to enter the property alone.""
My father shook his head.
"She's not going.""
I looked directly at him.
"You spent ten years trying to protect me by keeping secrets. Look where that got us.""
He fell silent.
Finally, he nodded.
"We'll go together. With the legal team and investigators.""
Three hours later, we were driving toward Savannah.
The old Carter estate stood behind a row of enormous oak trees, its white columns partially hidden by overgrown ivy.
I hadn't visited since I was seventeen.
When I stepped out of the car, the familiar smell of wet grass and magnolia flowers brought back memories.
My grandfather used to sit on the front porch every evening.
He'd let me play with the brass keys to his study, even though he never allowed anyone else inside.
I approached the front door.
It was unlocked.
Patricia immediately signaled the security officer to stay close.
We entered.
The house smelled of dust and old wood.
Furniture remained covered with white sheets. Family portraits hung along the hallway.
I stopped in front of my grandfather's photograph.
He was smiling, one hand resting on my shoulder.
I touched the frame.
"I'm here, Grandpa.""
Then I heard a noise upstairs.
A door closing.
My father looked at the security officer.
"Check it.""
Footsteps echoed above us.
A moment later, a man appeared at the top of the staircase.
Michael.
He was carrying a black document case.
"Richard.""
My father stared at him.
"What are you doing here?""
Michael descended slowly.
"I could ask you the same thing.""
Patricia stepped forward.
"Mr. Carter, please place the case on the floor.""
Michael laughed.
"You have no authority over private family property.""
"That depends on what's inside the case.""
He looked at me.
"Emily, you shouldn't be here.""
I stared at him.
"You spent twenty-five years lying to my father. You helped my husband forge my signature. And now you're trying to destroy my grandfather's documents.""
His expression hardened.
"You have no idea what your grandfather did.""
"Then tell me.""
Michael looked toward the study.
For a moment, something like fear crossed his face.
Then he said, "Your grandfather didn't leave you eighty-six million dollars.""
My father frowned.
"What?""
Michael smiled bitterly.
"He left you the responsibility for a company that was already drowning in debt.""
Patricia opened her folder.
"That's not what the financial records show.""
Michael ignored her.
"Go into the study, Emily. Look inside the desk.""
I hesitated.
Then I walked past him.
The study was exactly as I remembered it.
Dark wooden shelves. A green leather chair. A large desk facing the garden.
I opened the top drawer.
Inside was a small brass key.
I recognized it immediately.
It was the key my grandfather had given me when I was a child.
I used it to open a hidden compartment beneath the desk.
Inside lay a sealed envelope.
My name was written across it in my grandfather's handwriting.
I turned it over.
The seal was intact.
And beneath the envelope was another document.
A photograph of Brandon.
Taken when he was twenty-two years old.
Standing beside Michael.
Both men were holding a newspaper.
The headline read:
*LOCAL INVESTMENT FIRM COLLAPSES AFTER MILLIONS DISAPPEAR.*
My father stared at the photograph.
Then he whispered, "That's the year Victor Hale died.""
I opened the envelope.
May you like
The first sentence made my hands shake.
My dearest Emily, if you are reading this, someone has finally attempted to take what belongs to you.
Related Stories
