Chapter 5 - The Locked House
Detective Brooks told me not to go.
I went anyway.
Sophie remained at the hospital with my closest friend, Rachel Morgan.
Two detectives followed separately.
Arthur met me outside the Lake Geneva property shortly after ten.
The house sat above frozen blue water, surrounded by oak trees and silence.
My grandfather had built it before I was born.
I had spent childhood summers there.
Preston hated it because Grandpa forced him to leave his phone inside during dinner.
I loved it because it was the only place where nobody compared us.
Arthur handed me a folder.
“These prove the property belongs to your trust.”
I barely looked at them.
“Where’s the desk?”
“Henry’s study.”
We entered through the side door.
The security alarm was off.
Arthur stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“I activated it yesterday.”
My pulse jumped.
Someone was already inside.
Detective Brooks drew her weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
The front hallway looked untouched.
The kitchen was empty.
Then we reached the study.
The door stood open.
Drawers had been ripped from cabinets.
Books covered the floor.
My grandfather’s enormous walnut desk had been dragged away from the wall.
One drawer was open.
Nathan stood behind it.
He froze when he saw us.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Nathan slowly lifted his hands.
“Evelyn.”
I stared at him.
“How could you?”
His expression softened.
“You don’t understand.”
“You planted stolen jewelry on our daughter.”
“I was trying to protect us.”
“From what?”
“Your family.”
I almost laughed.
“You were working with them.”
“Not exactly.”
Detective Brooks stepped forward.
“Keep your hands visible.”
Nathan glanced toward her.
Then back at me.
“Preston has been stealing money from Whitmore Holdings for years.”
“I know.”
His surprise was obvious.
“Arthur told me.”
Nathan looked at Arthur with hatred.
The old man didn’t flinch.
Nathan continued.
“I discovered it three years ago.”
“So you helped him?”
“At first, no.”
“At first?”
“He offered me money.”
My stomach turned.
“How much?”
“Enough to fix everything.”
“What needed fixing?”
Nathan looked away.
That was when I knew.
“Your company.”
He said nothing.
Nathan’s real estate business had been struggling.
He had told me sales were slow.
He had never told me it was collapsing.
“You lost everything.”
“It was temporary.”
“You stole from my grandfather to save yourself.”
“I borrowed money Preston had already taken.”
“That is still stealing.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“You have never understood financial pressure.”
“No.”
“I understand hitting children is wrong.”
His face changed.
“I never agreed to that.”
“You framed her.”
“It was supposed to be harmless.”
“Harmless?”
My voice echoed through the room.
“You planted stolen jewelry on your eight-year-old daughter.”
Nathan stepped toward me.
Detective Brooks raised her weapon.
“Stop.”
He stopped.
“The plan was to make the family believe Sophie had behavioral problems.”
“Why?”
Nathan looked defeated.
“Because Preston needed leverage over you.”
“What leverage?”
“The trust.”
I stared at him.
Nathan took a breath.
“Henry didn’t leave Sophie six million dollars.”
A terrible silence settled over the room.
“He left her controlling shares in Whitmore Holdings.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
I turned toward him.
“You knew?”
He nodded.
“How much are they worth?”
Nathan answered.
“More than eighty million dollars.”
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
Then Nathan looked toward the open desk compartment.
“And the documents proving it were hidden right here.”
May you like
I followed his gaze.
The compartment was empty.
