Chapter 2: The Woman With the Key
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
The photograph trembled between my fingers.
Andrew stood beneath the gold lettering of the hotel entrance, one arm wrapped around the waist of the woman beside him.
But that wasn't what made my stomach turn.
It was the second photograph.
Lorraine.
My mother-in-law.
Standing behind them.
Holding a key.
My key.
The key to my house.
“No,” Lorraine whispered.
I looked up.
She had gone completely pale.
“You said you didn't know anything.”
“I don't.”
“You're in the photograph.”
“I wasn't doing anything.”
I held it up.
“You were handing her a key.”
Lorraine stepped forward.
“Give me those.”
I pulled the photographs against my chest.
“No.”
“Those photographs don't prove anything.”
“They prove you were there.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
The stranger standing on my porch watched us in silence.
I turned toward him.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Daniel.”
“Daniel what?”
“Daniel Reeves.”
He glanced at the envelope.
“I was hired to follow Andrew.”
“By whom?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because the person who hired me specifically asked me to remain anonymous until you had the photographs.”
I looked down at the stack.
“How many are there?”
“Thirty-seven.”
My chest tightened.
“Thirty-seven?”
He nodded.
“I didn't take all of them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was hired two weeks ago. Someone else had already been watching him.”
Lorraine suddenly stepped backward.
I noticed.
And that frightened me more than the photographs.
She wasn't surprised by the idea that Andrew had been followed.
She was surprised that I had found out.
“Who hired you?” I asked again.
Daniel hesitated.
“Your husband did.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Not Andrew.”
My heart skipped.
“Then who?”
Daniel looked directly at me.
“Your father.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“My father died six years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then why would you say he hired you?”
Daniel's expression became strangely careful.
“Because the payments came from an account established in his name.”
I stared at him.
That was impossible.
My father had left me an inheritance.
A substantial one.
But every account connected to him had been closed after his death.
At least, that's what I had been told.
I looked at Lorraine.
She was staring at Daniel like she wanted him to disappear.
“Did you know about this?” I asked.
“No.”
Her answer came too quickly.
I stepped toward her.
“You're lying.”
“I am not.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“I am not afraid.”
“You are.”
Daniel cleared his throat.
“There is something else.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
He pulled another photograph from the envelope.
“This was taken three weeks ago.”
I took it.
It showed Andrew entering a small office building.
I recognized the place immediately.
It was the law firm that had handled my father's estate.
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
“Why was Andrew there?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Did you follow him inside?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He met with someone.”
“Who?”
“I couldn't get close enough.”
I turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting on the back.
FILE 17-B.
My pulse began racing.
“What is File 17-B?”
Daniel looked at me.
“You don't know?”
“No.”
He slowly shook his head.
“Then I think you need to find out.”
Lorraine suddenly grabbed my arm.
“Enough.”
I jerked away.
“Don't touch me.”
“You don't know what you're getting yourself into.”
“What does that mean?”
She looked toward the street.
Then at Daniel.
Then back at me.
“You should stop asking questions.”
I almost laughed.
“Two hours ago, you threw a pot at my head.”
Her expression hardened.
“And now you're threatening me?”
“No.”
I looked down at the photographs.
“I'm warning you.”
I stepped inside.
Lorraine followed.
I walked straight to the kitchen and dropped the photographs onto the island.
Then I opened the green folder again.
My hands were shaking.
Not because of Andrew's affair.
Not anymore.
Something much bigger was happening.
My father's name had appeared.
The inheritance had appeared.
The house had appeared.
And Lorraine was somehow connected.
I looked at the deed.
Then at Andrew's signed statement.
Then at the photograph of Lorraine holding the key.
Suddenly, something clicked.
The key.
I had given Andrew only one spare key.
He had told me he lost it six months ago.
I had forgotten about it.
But the woman in the photograph was holding a key with a small silver heart attached to the ring.
My heart-shaped keychain.
The one I had bought on our honeymoon.
I grabbed my phone and opened the security camera application.
Our house had cameras covering the front entrance, driveway, and backyard.
I went to the date of the photograph.
Three weeks ago.
11:42 p.m.
I pressed play.
The screen showed our front porch.
At first, nothing happened.
Then a car stopped outside.
Lorraine stepped out.
She looked around.
Then she unlocked the front door.
I froze.
The timestamp continued.
11:44.
The woman from the photograph entered the house.
I stopped the video.
My breathing became shallow.
“What was she doing inside my house?”
Lorraine said nothing.
I restarted the footage.
The woman walked toward the stairs.
Then she turned.
And I saw her face clearly.
I had never met her.
But I knew exactly who she was.
Because there was a framed photograph of her in Andrew's office.
I had seen it six months ago.
I had asked who she was.
Andrew had laughed.
“Just someone from work.”
Now I knew that was a lie.
I zoomed in.
The woman was carrying a small black suitcase.
She disappeared upstairs.
Forty-three minutes later, she came back down.
She was carrying a cardboard box.
Then Lorraine appeared behind her.
They left together.
I turned slowly toward Lorraine.
“What was in that box?”
“I don't know.”
“You were there.”
“I don't remember.”
“You don't remember entering my house at midnight?”
“It was three weeks ago.”
“You don't forget something like that.”
She crossed her arms.
“You're becoming obsessed.”
“No.”
I grabbed another photograph.
“I'm becoming informed.”
The stranger, Daniel, was still standing near the door.
He suddenly spoke.
“There's one more thing.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
He reached into the envelope and pulled out a small USB drive.
“This came from the same person who hired me.”
I stared at it.
“What is it?”
“Video.”
“Of Andrew?”
“Yes.”
I took it.
“Where was it recorded?”
“At the lake cottage.”
My heart sank.
Andrew had told me he was going there because of a plumbing problem.
Daniel continued.
“The footage was recorded last night.”
I looked at the clock.
8:03 a.m.
“Then why haven't you shown me?”
“Because I wasn't sure you were ready.”
I almost smiled bitterly.
“Trust me. I'm past ready.”
He plugged the USB drive into my laptop.
A video appeared.
The timestamp was 11:18 p.m.
The camera showed the living room of our lake cottage.
Andrew walked into frame.
He wasn't alone.
The same woman followed him.
They were laughing.
Andrew kissed her.
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, I couldn't watch.
Then I forced myself to continue.
The woman sat on the couch.
Andrew poured two glasses of wine.
They talked.
I couldn't hear the words clearly.
Then Andrew said something that made me open my eyes.
The audio sharpened.
“I'll have the house by the end of the month.”
The woman smiled.
“And your wife?”
Andrew laughed.
“She'll sign whatever I put in front of her.”
My stomach dropped.
The woman leaned toward him.
“What if she refuses?”
Andrew's smile disappeared.
“She won't.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother has already convinced her she has no rights.”
I looked at Lorraine.
She was staring at the laptop.
The woman in the video continued.
“And the inheritance?”
Andrew answered without hesitation.
“That money is practically mine already.”
I stopped breathing.
My inheritance.
The money my father had left me.
The money that had paid for the house.
The money Andrew had never been entitled to.
The video continued.
The woman asked:
“What about the documents?”
Andrew looked toward the camera.
“I found them.”
“What documents?”
“The original trust papers.”
My blood ran cold.
“What trust?” I whispered.
Nobody answered.
Then Andrew said something that made my entire world tilt.
“My father knew exactly what he was doing when he put that condition in the trust.”
The woman stared at him.
“And if she finds out?”
Andrew smiled.
“She won't.”
The screen suddenly went black.
I stared at the laptop.
“What condition?”
Daniel looked at me.
“I don't know.”
I turned toward Lorraine.
She was crying.
Not angry.
Not defensive.
Terrified.
“You know,” I whispered.
She wiped her face.
“I didn't want this.”
“What condition?”
She shook her head.
“Your father warned me.”
I stepped closer.
“Warned you about what?”
She looked directly into my eyes.
Then she said something I never expected to hear.
“Your father didn't leave you that house.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“He left you a test.”
I felt the room spin.
“What test?”
Lorraine looked at the green folder on the counter.
“And Andrew wasn't supposed to pass it.”
Before I could ask another question, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice whispered:
“Don't trust Daniel.”
I froze.
“Who is this?”
The caller ignored me.
“Your father left something hidden inside the house.”
My eyes moved toward the staircase.
“Where?”
“Behind the wall.”
“Which wall?”
There was a pause.
Then the man whispered:
“The wall behind your wedding photograph.”
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
Then at the hallway.
Then at the framed photograph of Andrew and me hanging above the staircase.
Our wedding photograph.
The picture I had looked at every morning for seven years.
I slowly walked toward it.
And for the first time, I noticed something strange.
The frame wasn't sitting flat against the wall.
It had been moved recently.
I reached behind it.
My fingers touched something cold.
Metal.
I pulled.
A small key dropped into my palm.
And attached to the key was a handwritten tag.
May you like
Three words.
OPEN YOUR FATHER'S SAFE.
