Chapter 2 - Grace Bennett
Sophie stared at the note until the letters blurred.
GRACE BENNETT KNOWS.
Her knees nearly weakened.
Adrian pulled a chair toward her.
“Sit down.”
“I don’t need to sit.”
“You look like you’re about to fall.”
“My mother’s name is on a paper from your dead father’s study.”
Her voice cracked.
“I think I’m allowed to look shocked.”
Adrian said nothing.
Eleanor had quietly approached.
When she saw the name, the blood drained from her face.
Sophie noticed.
“You knew her.”
Eleanor looked up.
“What?”
“My mother.”
Silence.
Sophie stepped toward her.
“You knew Grace Bennett.”
Eleanor’s fingers tightened around the railing.
Adrian turned toward his mother.
“Mom?”
“I knew many employees over the years.”
Sophie felt anger rise.
“My mother wasn’t an employee here.”
Eleanor looked at her.
“You’re certain?”
“She worked in accounting.”
“Where?”
“A small manufacturing company in Evanston.”
Eleanor slowly closed her eyes.
Sophie’s stomach sank.
“That company belonged to us.”
Adrian looked stunned.
“What?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Blackwood Industrial owned dozens of subsidiaries back then.”
Sophie stared at her.
“You knew her.”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
Eleanor didn’t answer.
Sophie moved closer.
“How well?”
“Very well.”
The admission felt like a blow.
All Sophie’s childhood memories returned at once.
Her mother working late.
Her mother checking the locks twice every night.
Her mother refusing to discuss Sophie’s father.
Her mother keeping an old wooden box beneath her bed.
The fear in Grace’s face whenever expensive black cars slowed outside their apartment.
Sophie had assumed it was anxiety.
Now she wondered whether it had been something else.
Adrian’s voice was controlled.
“Why have you never mentioned her?”
Eleanor looked toward him.
“Because your father asked me not to.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
Sophie’s heart pounded.
“What did my mother have to do with Charles Blackwood?”
Eleanor lowered herself into a chair.
For the first time, the elegant matriarch looked old.
“Grace worked in financial compliance.”
Sophie listened.
“She discovered irregular payments being moved through one of our companies.”
“What kind of payments?”
“Millions.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Who was stealing?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“That was never proven.”
Sophie laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Of course.”
Eleanor looked at her.
“Your mother believed someone inside the family was moving money through shell companies.”
“Did she tell Charles?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He believed her.”
Adrian stared at his mother.
“My father investigated someone in the family?”
“He intended to.”
“Who?”
Eleanor’s eyes shifted toward the dark windows.
“I don’t know.”
Sophie didn’t believe her.
Neither did Adrian.
Before either could challenge her, the security guard returned.
“We found something else.”
He placed a clear evidence sleeve on the table.
Inside was a photograph.
Old.
Faded.
Four people stood outside Blackwood Manor.
Charles Blackwood.
Eleanor.
A younger man Sophie didn’t recognize.
And Grace Bennett.
Sophie picked up the photograph with trembling fingers.
Her mother looked barely twenty-five.
Smiling.
Happy.
Nothing like the guarded woman Sophie remembered.
Behind Grace, someone had written:
WE FOUND IT. KEEP THE ORIGINAL SAFE.
Adrian stared at the fourth person.
“My uncle.”
Sophie looked at him.
“Your uncle?”
“Victor Blackwood.”
Eleanor immediately stood.
“That’s enough.”
Adrian turned.
“Why?”
“Because reopening this will not bring your father back.”
The room changed.
Sophie caught the words immediately.
“Bring him back?”
Eleanor realized her mistake.
Adrian stared at his mother.
“My father died of a heart attack.”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you told me.”
Eleanor said nothing.
Adrian’s voice lowered.
“Was that true?”
Eleanor’s face crumpled for half a second.
Then she regained control.
“Go home, Sophie.”
Sophie stared at her.
“No.”
“This is not your problem.”
“My dead mother’s name is inside your dead husband’s study.”
Eleanor looked at her.
“It became my problem before I ever walked into this house.”
Adrian placed the photograph beside the key.
“What happened seventeen years ago?”
Eleanor turned away.
Then every light in the mansion went out.
Darkness swallowed the foyer.
Someone screamed.
Adrian grabbed Sophie’s arm.
“Stay here.”
A loud crash came from the study upstairs.
Then footsteps.
Running.
By the time backup lights flickered on, the photograph was gone.
So was the brass key.
And the front security system showed one impossible message:
WEST GATE OPENED — AUTHORIZED ENTRY: VICTOR BLACKWOOD.
May you like
Adrian stared at the screen.
“My uncle is in the house.”
