CHAPTER 10 — The Third Music Box
CHAPTER 10 — The Third Music Box
Vanessa and Dr. Hale were taken into custody.
Dr. Hale survived the gunshot and was placed under armed guard at the hospital.
Eleanor was transferred to a private medical center in Boston.
Three days later, Alexander sat beside her bed.
Clara and Amelia were nearby.
The twins waited outside with Mrs. Turner.
“Where is the third box?” Alexander asked.
Eleanor looked at Clara.
“The song.”
Clara frowned.
“What about it?”
“The final notes are not part of the lullaby. They are numbers.”
Alexander remembered the melody.
“Three high notes, one low note, four high notes.”
“Three-one-four,” Eleanor said.
“Room 314?”
She nodded.
“At the old Whitmore estate.”
Alexander’s childhood home had been abandoned for fifteen years.
He traveled there that evening with Clara and the security team.
The house stood dark beneath an overgrown canopy of trees.
Inside room 314, they found a nursery sealed behind a false wall.
A small crib remained beneath a dust-covered window.
On the dresser sat the third music box.
Clara opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Eleanor and Alexander as young adults.
Beneath the photograph lay a bank card and a handwritten message.
The truth sleeps where the Whitmore name began.
Alexander searched the room.
Clara examined the crib.
A bronze plate was attached beneath the mattress frame.
She pressed it.
A hidden panel opened in the floor.
Inside was a metal document case.
Alexander unlocked it using the brass key from Amelia’s box.
The case contained original contracts, financial ledgers and letters signed by Alexander’s father.
The documents proved that Eleanor’s grandfather had financed the creation of Whitmore Industries.
In return, the Bennett family had been promised fifty-one percent ownership.
Alexander’s father had concealed the agreement after the Bennett patriarch died.
Clara looked at Alexander.
“This could take your company away.”
“It should.”
“You built that company.”
“On stolen foundations.”
A sound came from the doorway.
Alexander turned.
His younger brother, Richard Whitmore, stood there with a gun.
“Close the case,” Richard said.
Alexander’s expression hardened.
“You knew.”
Richard smiled sadly.
“Father told me everything before he died.”
Clara stepped behind Alexander.
May you like
Richard raised the weapon.
“The Bennett family will never own Whitmore Industries.”
