Chapter 5 - Grandpa's Warning
I didn't read the letter immediately.
I couldn't.
My hands were shaking too badly.
David noticed.
"Want me to read it first?"
"No."
I took a breath.
"I need to hear his voice."
I read.
Emily,
If this letter has reached you, something has gone very wrong.
I need you to understand one thing before anything else.
The trust was never created because I didn't trust you.
It was created because I did not trust the people around you.
My throat tightened.
David sat beside me.
I continued.
Grandpa wrote that he had discovered repeated withdrawals from family accounts.
He had confronted my father.
My father had claimed the money was being used for household emergencies.
Grandpa didn't believe him.
He hired an investigator.
The investigator discovered that money was being moved through several shell companies.
One belonged to Miranda's husband.
Another was connected to my father.
But then came the part that made my stomach drop.
Grandpa had discovered that Miranda was involved too.
Not because she was stealing money.
Because she knew where it came from.
She knew exactly whose money it was.
Mine.
I stopped reading.
David looked at me.
"Keep going."
I turned the page.
The handwriting became messier.
Your sister does not know everything.
Your mother knows more than she admits.
Your father knows enough to be dangerous.
I wanted to confront them publicly, but I feared they would retaliate against you.
I swallowed.
The next paragraph changed everything.
Emily, I made the trust so that no one could take what belongs to you.
Your father agreed to administer it.
I regret that decision.
If he tells you the trust has been exhausted, he is lying.
My heart hammered.
Then:
There is one more thing.
The lake house was never merely a vacation property.
There is something hidden there.
Something I need you to find before anyone else does.
I looked at David.
"What does that mean?"
He shook his head.
"No idea."
I read the final lines.
If you reach this point, do not confront them alone.
Take the records.
Take the original ledger.
Most importantly, find the blue box.
It is hidden where your father believes no one would ever look.
Emily, I am sorry.
I should have protected you better.
The letter ended.
There was no signature.
Just Grandpa's initials.
W.B.
David leaned back.
"The blue box."
I nodded.
"Where would he hide something from Dad?"
I thought about the lake house.
Then my childhood.
One place came to mind.
Grandpa's workshop.
We drove there the next morning.
The property was now owned by Miranda's company.
But the deed had not been transferred legally until after the trust had already been drained.
Hannah arranged temporary access while the court reviewed the trust.
When I stepped inside the workshop, I immediately remembered the smell.
Wood.
Oil.
Dust.
And that old citrus soap Grandpa always used.
Everything had been preserved.
Workbench.
Tools.
Shelves.
Even his faded Army jacket hanging from a nail.
David walked toward the back wall.
"Emily."
I turned.
He was holding a floor plan.
"There's a crawlspace."
Behind an old shelving unit, we found a narrow wooden panel.
I pulled it open.
A cavity appeared.
Inside was a blue metal box.
My heart stopped.
I reached inside.
The box was heavy.
Locked.
Hannah had given me a key ring from the estate.
One key fit.
Click.
The lid opened.
Inside were bank ledgers.
Photographs.
Property documents.
And one small digital recorder.
I pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then my grandfather's voice.
"If you're hearing this, Emily, they have already lied to you."
I closed my eyes.
His voice continued.
"I discovered that Robert used your trust to cover debts I never authorized."
A pause.
"I also discovered something about Miranda's children."
David looked at me.
My breathing stopped.
Grandpa continued.
"Not because Ethan and Chloe are bad children."
His voice softened.
"But because their existence became the excuse for every theft."
Then came the sentence that made the room spin.
"Your parents believe that if you ever take control of the trust, Miranda's family will lose everything."
The recording crackled.
"And they will do almost anything to prevent that."
The audio stopped.
I stared at the recorder.
"That's it?"
David rewound it.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a folded paper under the recorder.
I opened it.
Three words were written in Grandpa's handwriting.
Ask who knows.
I frowned.
"Who knows what?"
David looked at the door.
Then his expression changed.
"Emily."
"What?"
He pointed.
Someone had entered the workshop.
A man's shadow moved across the glass.
May you like
We heard the door lock.
From the outside.
