Chapter 13 - THE MAN IN THE ATTIC
Ethan moved in front of me.
Sarah grabbed the old fireplace poker.
The footsteps continued.
Slow.
Heavy.
Someone was walking across the attic.
Ethan whispered:
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Olivia.”
“We're doing this together.”
We climbed the stairs.
The attic door was slightly open.
Ethan pushed it.
The room was empty.
Old furniture covered the floor.
Boxes.
Dust.
Photographs.
No person.
Then I saw the window.
It was open.
A rope hung outside.
Someone had escaped.
Sarah walked toward the desk.
She froze.
“There.”
A folder lay open.
The documents had been disturbed.
Someone had searched the room.
Ethan picked up one paper.
“What is this?”
It was an old family genealogy.
Several names had been circled.
Mine.
Ethan's.
Victoria's.
And Marcus's.
A note appeared beside my name.
BENEFICIARY.
Beside Marcus:
ALTERNATIVE CONTROL.
I felt cold.
“They're preparing for a replacement.”
Sarah nodded.
“Exactly.”
“Who is Marcus?”
“He believes the Caldwell estate should belong to him.”
“Why?”
“Because he thinks your marriage is illegitimate.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“Here we go again.”
But Sarah looked serious.
“He has legal documents.”
“What documents?”
“A marriage challenge.”
My stomach dropped.
“He says your marriage was based on financial concealment.”
“That is absurd.”
“He doesn't care whether it's true.”
“He only needs enough uncertainty to delay the trust.”
I looked at the files.
The plan was becoming clear.
Victoria had tried to break our marriage.
Marcus was trying to invalidate it afterward.
The objective was the same.
Stop me from controlling the trust.
We needed to find the second trust.
But the trail had gone cold.
Then Ethan found a photograph.
It showed Clara standing beside a young man.
Marcus.
On the back:
He knows where the vault is.
We had to find him.
Sarah knew where he worked.
A private financial firm in Hartford.
We went there that morning.
He was expecting us.
Marcus Caldwell stood behind a glass desk.
He was elegant.
Calm.
He looked exactly like someone raised to believe the family belonged to him.
“Ethan.”
“Marcus.”
His eyes moved toward me.
“Olivia.”
“You know me.”
“Of course.”
“You've been trying to challenge my marriage.”
He smiled.
“Legal disputes are not personal.”
“You've been watching my house.”
“Security.”
“You entered Clara's property.”
“I have family rights.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“You don't.”
Marcus looked at him.
“You were never meant to inherit.”
Ethan laughed.
“Neither were you.”
Marcus's expression hardened.
“You don't understand what your grandfather intended.”
“I understand enough.”
Marcus looked at me.
“You have one chance to leave.”
“No.”
“You walk away.”
“And the trust remains within the family.”
“No.”
He leaned toward me.
“Then everyone loses.”
I stared.
“No.”
“Only you lose.”
I smiled.
“You still think I'm afraid of losing money.”
His expression changed.
“I've already lost something much more valuable.”
“What?”
“My fear.”
Marcus didn't answer.
We left.
That evening, an envelope arrived at our house.
Inside was a photograph.
The Caldwell family vault.
May you like
And a message:
MIDNIGHT.
