Chapter 2
The next morning broke with a fragile sunlight,
piercing through the heavy gray clouds,
and casting long shadows across the lawn.
Daniel was sleeping in the guest room,
recovering from his ordeal,
while Mrs. Bell and I sat in the kitchen.
We were drinking black coffee,
listening to the ticking of the old grandfather clock,
waiting for the inevitable knock on the door.
"Arthur Whitaker is a ghost,"
Mrs. Bell told me,
stirring sugar into her cup with a silver spoon.
"He left the country thirty years ago,
after a massive scandal involving your birth father,
and nobody has spoken his name since."
I traced the rim of my coffee mug,
thinking about the secrets buried in this family,
and the blood that tied me to a history I never wanted.
"He wants something specific,"
I mused out loud,
"something Grant was too stupid to find."
Just then,
the security intercom buzzed loudly,
shattering the peaceful morning silence.
I walked to the panel,
pressing the brass button firmly,
and stared at the small security screen.
A sleek black car was parked at the front gate,
and a tall,
older man in a tailored suit was standing outside of it.
He looked exactly like Grant,
but with colder eyes,
and a much sharper,
more cruel smile.
"Open the gate,
Caroline,"
his voice crackled through the speaker,
smooth and dripping with false politeness.
"I do not accept uninvited guests,"
I replied,
keeping my voice completely level,
refusing to show him any weakness.
"I am family,"
he chuckled,
"and family does not need an invitation."
"You are a trespasser,"
I corrected him,
"and if you do not leave,
I will call the police."
Arthur laughed,
a dry,
hollow sound that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
"The police cannot help you with what is coming,"
he warned,
"because I legally own the land your foundation is built on."
I froze,
my fingers hovering over the intercom button,
my mind racing to make sense of his impossible claim.
"That is a lie,"
I said,
but a tiny seed of doubt began to take root in my stomach.
"Check the original deeds from nineteen eighty,"
he suggested,
"before Margaret allegedly bought the property,
my brother secured the mineral rights,
and those rights passed directly to me."
He stepped closer to the camera,
his eyes locking onto the lens,
as if he could see right through my soul.
"I will be back tomorrow,"
he promised,
"and I expect you to be ready to negotiate,
little Lily."
He used my birth name like a weapon,
trying to strip away my identity,
trying to make me feel small and powerless.
He turned around,
getting back into his expensive car,
and drove away down the winding coastal road.
I released the intercom button,
my hands shaking slightly,
and turned back to face Mrs. Bell.
"He is bluffing,"
I said,
though I was trying to convince myself as much as her.
"We need to go to the boathouse,"
May you like
Mrs. Bell said firmly,
"we need to find what Margaret really hid down there."
