Chapter 4 - THE HIDDEN TRUTH I stared at the envelope in Leo’s small hand. The handwriting was unmistakably my father’s—cramped, heavy-handed, leaning sharply to the right.
"Where did you find this, Leo?" I asked, my voice tight.
"He put it in the treehouse," the boy said, taking a sip of his milk. "Under a loose board. He said it was a secret just for us, but if you ever came to sit in his chair, I should give it to you."
I took the envelope. It felt heavy. I tore the edge open and tipped the contents into my palm.
A small brass key slid out, attached to a faded red ribbon, along with a single folded piece of notebook paper.
I unfolded the paper.
Luca. If you are reading this, it means you finally showed up. I hope you aren't too late. They’ve been lying to you about the fire. They’ve been lying about the business. The key opens Box 402 at the downtown depository. Do not let Vivienne see it.
My breath caught in my throat. They’ve been lying to you about the fire.
"What is it?" Arthur asked, stepping into the kitchen. He saw the color drain from my face.
"Arthur, twenty years ago, who exactly told Peter I was still inside the garage?"
Arthur frowned, thinking back. "It was chaos, Luca. The flames went up so fast. But I remember Vivienne’s father, Richard. He was the one shouting that you hadn't come out. Peter ran right back in."
"I was already out," I whispered, the memory rushing back with horrifying clarity. "I was in the backyard, getting the hose. Richard knew I was out. He saw me."
Why would Richard send Peter into a burning building?
I looked at the foreclosure notice on the table. Vanguard Equities. Richard’s firm. The firm that had supposedly been paying Mrs. Bennett’s mortgage for two decades. The firm that was now trying to take her house.
"Arthur, get the car ready," I said, my jaw setting. "We’re going to the bank."
"At this hour? The depository is closed until morning."
"Then we’ll wait in the parking lot."
I turned to Mrs. Bennett. "I am so sorry. For everything. For the years I wasn't here. I promise you, nobody is taking this house."
She reached out and squeezed my hand. "Just find out the truth, Luca. That’s all your father ever wanted."
I walked out to the car, the brass key burning a hole in my pocket. We drove in silence back toward the city. The lights of the skyline—the skyline I had helped build, the empire I sat on top of—suddenly looked sinister.
As we pulled up to the gated entrance of my estate, Arthur stopped the car.
A sleek black town car was blocking the driveway.
Vivienne stood in the headlights, wearing her designer mourning dress, her arms crossed. Behind her, her father, Richard, stepped out of the shadows.
"Get out of the car, Luca," Vivienne commanded.
I stepped out, the cool night air biting at my neck.
"You’re making a fool of yourself," Richard said, his voice smooth and dangerous. "Running off to play charity case with the mechanic’s widow. We have a company to run."
"Where is the Bennett trust money, Richard?" I asked.
Vivienne flinched. Richard didn't even blink.
"It was an unnecessary expense," Richard said calmly. "A guilt tax. I reallocated it to more productive assets years ago."
"You stole from her. You’re foreclosing on her house."
"I am protecting your assets from leeches," Richard countered, taking a step forward. "Now go inside, wash your face, and act like a CEO."
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the brass key, letting it dangle from the red ribbon.
May you like
Richard’s eyes locked onto it. For the first time in twenty years, I saw the great Richard Vanguard panic.
"Where did you get that?" he demanded.
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