Chapter 3 - The Missing UncleUncle Harold had vanished when I was twenty-four.
That was the official story.
He had moved overseas.
He had wanted a fresh start.
He had gotten into business trouble.
Every year, Mom gave me a different explanation.
But nobody had mentioned him in years.
Now his name was sitting in front of me.
I called the number I found in Dad's old contacts.
Disconnected.
I searched online.
Nothing.
Then Daniel said something that made my blood run cold.
“Dad kept a box.”
“What box?”
“In the attic.”
I turned toward him.
“You never told me that.”
“I forgot about it.”
“You forgot Dad had a secret box?”
He winced.
“I was nineteen.”
Steve interrupted.
“This is ridiculous. We're discussing a family argument, not some conspiracy movie.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Then why are you so nervous?”
Steve's jaw tightened.
Lucy stepped between them.
“Enough.”
I went upstairs.
Steve followed.
“Where are you going?”
“The attic.”
“You can't just…”
I turned around.
“This is my house.”
He stopped.
That sentence clearly hurt him.
Good.
I climbed the stairs.
The attic smelled like dust and cedar.
Boxes were stacked beneath the roof.
I searched for my father's handwriting.
Then I found a metal trunk.
Locked.
Daniel arrived behind me.
“I remember this.”
“Can you open it?”
He pulled a small key from his wallet.
I stared at him.
“You had the key?”
“Dad gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“He told me not to open it unless Mom ever tried to sell the family property.”
I felt something inside me shift.
“Mom isn't selling property.”
Daniel looked at me.
“She isn't.”
“Then why did you say that?”
He didn't answer.
We opened the trunk.
Inside were bank statements.
Property maps.
Old photographs.
And a letter addressed to me.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Jenny,
If you're reading this, something has gone wrong.
I stopped.
Daniel leaned closer.
I kept reading.
The house you will one day call yours may have belonged to our family long before you were born.
My pulse raced.
Your mother will tell you the property was purchased through ordinary channels. Do not believe her.
I looked at Daniel.
“What the hell?”
The letter continued.
Your Uncle Harold discovered the original records. He tried to protect you. That's why he had to leave.
I read the next sentence three times.
Lucy knows more than she admits.
I looked at Daniel.
“Lucy?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
I continued.
When the time comes, look beneath the third floorboard in the old library.
The letter ended there.
No signature.
I folded it.
“What library?”
Daniel stared at me.
“The library in this house.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
He pointed toward the bedroom door.
“This house has a library downstairs.”
I remembered.
A small wood-paneled room at the end of the first floor.
The one room I had never completely inspected.
We went downstairs.
My mother was still on speakerphone.
“Jenny, do not touch anything.”
I ignored her.
I opened the library door.
There were hundreds of books.
Most were mine.
Some were left by the previous owner.
I counted the floorboards.
One.
Two.
Three.
Daniel knelt.
“This one.”
He pressed his fingers against the wood.
It moved.
My breath caught.
We lifted the floorboard.
Inside was a narrow compartment.
And inside that compartment sat a red envelope.
My name was written across it.
But before I could touch it, Lucy screamed from the hallway.
“No!”
We turned.
She stood there crying.
Not angry.
Not embarrassed.
Terrified.
May you like
She whispered:
“Jenny, you weren't supposed to find that.”
