Chapter 3 - THE LOCKBOX
The man at the door introduced himself as Benjamin Cole.
I knew the name.
My grandfather’s attorney.
He was seventy now, with white hair, sharp eyes, and the kind of calm voice that made other people nervous.
The two men behind him were private security.
Benjamin looked at Noah.
Then at my mother.
Then at the document in my hand.
“You opened it.”
“I did.”
Margaret stepped forward.
“You had no right to come here.”
Benjamin barely looked at her.
“Mrs. Mercer, I’ve had the right for nearly three decades.”
She stiffened.
He turned to me.
“Is the child injured?”
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“Good.”
Margaret crossed her arms.
“This is absurd.”
Benjamin finally faced her.
“No. What happened here tonight may actually make several things much simpler.”
“What things?”
He lifted the metal box.
“The things Charles expected you to deny.”
Margaret’s voice sharpened.
“Get out of my house.”
Benjamin looked around the mansion.
“According to the document Daniel is holding, this house stopped being under your control the day Noah was born.”
Silence.
Margaret laughed.
It sounded forced.
“That paper is fake.”
Benjamin nodded.
“I assumed you would say that.”
He placed the box on the entry table and entered a code.
Click.
The lid opened.
Inside were sealed envelopes, an old cassette recorder, two notarized documents, photographs, bank records, and a small black notebook.
Margaret backed away.
I noticed.
Benjamin noticed too.
“What is all that?” I asked.
“Insurance.”
“Against what?”
Benjamin looked at Margaret.
“Against your mother.”
My skin went cold.
Margaret snapped, “Charles was sick when he died.”
“He was dying,” Benjamin corrected. “He was not stupid.”
Benjamin handed me one envelope.
Across the front, in my grandfather’s handwriting, were four words.
FOR DANIEL. ONLY DANIEL.
I tore it open.
Inside was a letter.
Daniel,
If you are reading this, then either your first child has been born, or Margaret has made another attempt to bury the truth.
My hands stopped moving.
Another attempt?
I looked up.
Margaret was staring at the letter.
“What truth?”
Benjamin said nothing.
I kept reading.
There are things about your mother, your father, and the night you were born that you were never meant to discover.
My heart began pounding.
Then I reached the final line on the first page.
Before you trust Margaret’s version of your life, ask her what happened to Rebecca Hale.
I looked at my mother.
“Who is Rebecca Hale?”
Margaret’s expression collapsed.
Benjamin closed the lockbox.
May you like
And my mother whispered,
“Your real mother.”
