Chapter 4 - The Leather Briefcase and the Sapphire Pin
We followed Robert out the back door into the alley, the cold evening air biting at our faces. The streetlights flickered overhead as Robert popped the trunk of his sedan.
Sitting in the center of the trunk was Frank’s old, scuffed leather briefcase—the one he claimed he had lost on a business trip to Chicago three years ago.
"He told me it was just sensitive tax documents," Robert said, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "He said if you found them during the divorce discovery, your lawyers would twist the numbers to take his pension. But I know my brother. He doesn't guard paper this closely unless it's hiding something worse."
I didn't wait for permission. I reached into the trunk, pulled the heavy briefcase toward me, and flicked the brass latches. They weren't locked.
Inside weren't tax returns. The briefcase was stuffed with thick, notarized property deeds and banking ledgers.
Daniel reached in and pulled out a stack of papers bound by a thick rubber band. He flipped through them, his eyes widening. "Mom. There’s a deed here for a beachfront condo in Clearwater, Florida. It was purchased seven years ago for four hundred thousand dollars in cash."
I stared at the paper. Seven years ago was the year Frank told me we couldn't afford to help pay for my mother’s assisted living care. I had worked nights at a grocery store to cover her medical bills while my husband secretly bought a luxury condo in cash.
But the betrayals weren't just financial.
At the bottom of the briefcase, wedged beneath a stack of offshore bank statements, was a small, faded velvet box. My heart stopped. I recognized the gold trim on the velvet.
I opened it with trembling fingers. Resting on the white satin cushion was my grandmother's sapphire pin.
Five years ago, we had returned from a weekend trip to find our back door smashed. Frank had called the police, claiming we had been robbed. The only things missing were Frank's golf clubs, his "lost" silver lighter, and my grandmother's heirloom pin. I had mourned that pin for years; it was the only piece of my family history I had left.
"He staged the break-in," I whispered, the realization making me physically nauseous. "He stole my grandmother's jewelry to hide it from me."
"Why would he keep it?" Sarah asked, standing close to Daniel. "If he wanted money, why not pawn it?"
"Because it’s leverage," Robert said quietly. "Frank doesn't discard valuable things. He hides them so he can use them later."
Suddenly, Daniel's cell phone rang, breaking the tense silence in the alley. He pulled it from his pocket and stared at the caller ID.
"It’s the restaurant’s main line," Daniel said, frowning. He answered and put it on speaker. "Hello?"
"Daniel, darling, it's Monica," a bright, honeyed voice echoed from the phone. "I’m so sorry to hear the terrible news about your little restaurant failing before it even opened. Your father is heartbroken about your financial mismanagement."
May you like
I gripped the edge of the trunk. Financial mismanagement?
"But don't you worry," Monica continued smoothly, entirely oblivious to the fact that she was speaking on speakerphone in an alley. "Frank told me he bought the building from the bank to save you from bankruptcy. I'm actually standing outside the front door right now. Frank said I could drop by to pick up the spare keys to the kitchen? We’re going to start remodeling it for my new boutique tomorrow morning."
