Chapter 1 - The Man With the Other Key
The deadbolt turned.
Emily’s fingers closed around her father’s black smartphone.
Across the dining room, Diane stepped backward.
That frightened Emily more than the key entering the lock.
Diane had spent the entire evening looking untouchable. She had dumped Emily’s dinner into Scout’s metal bowl, told her to eat on the floor, reminded her that her father was dead, and practically dared her to cry.
Now someone was coming through the front door.
And Diane looked afraid.
Scout moved closer to Emily’s leg.
The phone recording continued in her father’s voice.
“Emily… when you see who walks through that door, do not trust what they tell you about me.”
The front door opened.
A man stepped inside.
Emily’s breath left her.
“Uncle Grant?”
Grant Harper removed his snow-damp overcoat and shut the door behind him.
He was fifty-one, silver beginning at his temples, still wearing the tailored navy suits he had worn throughout Emily’s childhood. Her father’s younger brother had taught her to drive in an empty company parking lot. He sent her birthday checks every year. He had spoken at her father’s funeral.
And he had a key to the house.
Grant saw the black phone in Emily’s hand.
His expression changed.
Not much.
Enough.
“Where did you find that?”
Emily’s pulse hammered.
Diane answered for her.
“Scout.”
Grant looked toward the old dog.
Then at the walnut sideboard.
“Thomas always did enjoy theatrics.”
Thomas.
Her father.
Hearing Grant say his name so casually made Emily’s chest hurt.
Emily held the phone tighter.
“Dad said not to trust what you tell me about him.”
Grant sighed.
“Of course he did.”
Diane crossed her arms.
“Can we stop pretending now?”
Emily looked between them.
“Pretending what?”
Grant walked into the dining room.
He saw the untouched food in Scout’s bowl.
Then he looked at Diane.
“What happened?”
“She was being disrespectful.”
“You dumped her dinner into the dog’s bowl?”
“Don’t suddenly become sentimental.”
Grant rubbed his forehead.
Emily almost laughed.
Even now, they were acting as though humiliation was a housekeeping disagreement.
She opened the sealed envelope again.
Inside were documents concerning the house, a trust account, and a proposed family settlement agreement.
Her name appeared above an empty signature line.
Diane’s name appeared as recipient of the residence.
“You were trying to make me sign this.”
Grant sat at the dining table.
“No one was trying to make you do anything.”
“Then why was it hidden?”
“It wasn’t hidden by us.”
Emily looked at Diane.
Diane said nothing.
Grant gestured toward a chair.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“I said no.”
Something flickered in his face.
For the first time she understood how much her father’s authority had protected her from people she thought loved her.
Grant opened his briefcase.
He removed a thick folder.
“This is going to hurt.”
Emily almost smiled.
“Apparently tonight has a theme.”
Grant ignored the comment.
“Your father took money from Harper Development.”
Emily stared.
The company had belonged to her grandfather originally. Thomas and Grant inherited it together. Her father later expanded it into a successful commercial property and restoration business.
“How much?”
“Three-point-eight million dollars.”
“No.”
“It is documented.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
He slid bank statements across the table.
Transfers.
Corporate accounts.
Her father’s name.
Diane finally spoke.
“He was desperate at the end.”
Emily turned.
“Desperate for what?”
Grant leaned forward.
“Your father had debts you knew nothing about.”
Emily remembered the recording.
Do not trust what they tell you about me.
Grant continued.
“The company has a restitution claim against his estate. The house may have to be sold.”
Emily looked at the proposed agreement.
“Then why does this transfer the house to Diane?”
“So the family can settle privately instead of suing your father’s estate.”
“Diane isn’t the company.”
“She is Thomas’s widow.”
“And I’m his daughter.”
Grant’s voice became colder.
“You’re nineteen, Emily. You do not understand what you’re looking at.”
Scout growled softly.
Everyone turned.
The old dog had never growled at Grant before.
Grant’s jaw tightened.
Emily looked down at the phone.
The recording had paused.
She pressed play.
Her father’s voice returned.
“If Grant tells you I stole from the company, ask him about Northstar Renovation.”
Grant stood so abruptly his chair struck the wall.
Emily looked up.
Her father continued.
“Ask him why a company with no employees received three-point-eight million dollars.”
Diane whispered, “Turn that off.”
Emily did not.
Her father’s voice became weaker, as if he had recorded this late in his illness.
“And ask Grant why every payment he claims I stole ended up covering invoices he created.”
Grant crossed the room.
“Give me the phone.”
Emily backed away.
Scout moved between them.
Grant stopped.
Emily’s fear sharpened into clarity.
“You didn’t come here to tell me Dad was a thief.”
Grant stared at her.
“You came because you knew Diane was supposed to get my signature tonight.”
Diane snapped, “Nobody was forcing you.”
Emily looked at the papers.
Then at the door Grant had unlocked himself.
Her father had been right.
The person helping Diane already had a key.
But Grant had not come only to collect a signature.
He had come prepared with a story.
May you like
A story designed to destroy Thomas Harper’s reputation before Emily had time to discover what he had hidden.
And somewhere inside the black phone, her dead father had already begun telling her why.
