Chapter 3 — The Missing Inheritance
Chapter 3 — The Missing Inheritance
The lock turned.
I heard it clearly.
One metallic click.
Then another.
I stood in the darkness beneath the staircase, staring at the closed door.
“Daniel?”
No answer.
I rushed toward it and grabbed the handle.
It wouldn't move.
“Daniel!”
Silence.
I pounded on the door.
“Open this door!”
Nothing.
My breathing became shallow.
The basement was cold.
The only light came from a small window near the ceiling, barely wide enough to let in the moonlight.
I stepped backward.
Then I remembered the letter.
Do not trust Margaret.
My eyes moved toward the desk.
If Daniel had locked me inside, then the letter wasn't the only thing I needed to worry about.
Someone had wanted me to find this room.
Someone had left the key.
Someone had known exactly what I would discover.
And now someone had trapped me inside.
I picked up the letter again.
The handwriting belonged to a man named Jonathan Reed.
I didn't know who he was.
But the letter contained a name I did know.
Edward Harrington.
My father.
I read the first paragraph again.
If you are reading this, Edward is dead and I failed to protect you.
I turned the page.
There was another sheet beneath it.
Edward believed his estate would be attacked from within the family. He created a second inheritance structure, separate from the company and separate from the family trust.
My heart began racing.
A second inheritance.
I kept reading.
The official Harrington trust is a decoy. The real inheritance is held elsewhere.
I whispered:
“Where?”
The next line answered me.
Find Account 7421.
I stared at the number.
Below it was another sentence.
The account cannot be accessed by anyone carrying the Harrington name.
I stopped.
That meant Daniel couldn't access it.
Margaret couldn't.
Vivian couldn't.
The family couldn't.
Only someone outside the Harrington name could.
Someone like me.
At the bottom of the page was a handwritten note.
Edward chose Maria because he believed she would never value the money more than the truth.
My eyes filled with tears.
I had never met my father.
Yet somehow, he had understood me better than most people who had known me my entire life.
A sound came from outside.
I froze.
Someone was walking down the stairs.
Slowly.
One step.
Then another.
I held my breath.
The footsteps stopped outside the basement door.
Then a key entered the lock.
I stepped away from the door.
It opened.
I expected Daniel.
Instead, Margaret stood there.
She was holding a flashlight.
Her face was pale.
“Maria.”
I didn't answer.
She stepped inside.
“Are you hurt?”
“Why did Daniel lock me in here?”
Margaret's expression changed.
“He didn't.”
I stared at her.
“I heard his voice.”
“So did I.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
I held up the letter.
“Then explain this.”
She saw the paper.
Her face drained of color.
“Where did you get that?”
“It was on the desk.”
She walked toward me.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Maria.”
“Who is Jonathan Reed?”
She stopped.
“You know him.”
“I knew his name.”
“What did he do for my father?”
“He was Edward's private attorney.”
“Why did he write this?”
Margaret looked away.
“Because he knew about the second trust.”
I felt a chill.
“You knew about it.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
I laughed.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
I held up the letter.
“Your son locked me in here.”
“I don't believe Daniel did that.”
“I heard his voice.”
“Then someone wanted you to believe it was him.”
I stared at her.
“Who?”
Margaret looked toward the doorway.
“That is what we need to find out.”
We went upstairs.
Daniel was nowhere in the house.
His phone was sitting on the library desk.
His keys were beside it.
His coat was hanging near the front entrance.
But Daniel was gone.
I looked at Margaret.
“He was here.”
“I know.”
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“Then where is he?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
The security guards searched the property.
Nothing.
No Daniel.
No footprints.
No sign of forced entry.
Then one guard came into the library.
“Mrs. Harrington.”
Margaret turned.
“We found this.”
He handed her a phone.
It was Daniel's second phone.
The one I had never seen before.
Margaret stared at it.
“Where?”
“In the greenhouse.”
I stepped closer.
The screen was cracked.
There was one unread message.
From an unknown number.
SHE FOUND THE ROOM.
Another message arrived.
BEGIN THE SECOND PHASE.
My stomach tightened.
Margaret looked at me.
“Maria…”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I took the phone.
“We're not hiding anything anymore.”
I opened the message thread.
There were dozens of conversations.
All deleted except for fragments.
Bank numbers.
Account numbers.
Names.
Dates.
Then I saw one name.
Vivian.
I looked at Margaret.
“Your daughter-in-law has been communicating with Daniel.”
Margaret frowned.
“They're married.”
“Not like this.”
I opened the remaining messages.
One was from Vivian.
If she finds the second account, we're finished.
Daniel had replied:
She won't.
Another message.
Vivian:
What if she already knows?
Daniel:
Then I will handle it.
My hands went cold.
Margaret whispered:
“Daniel…”
I looked at her.
“He knew.”
“He knew what?”
“That I was looking for the inheritance.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
I opened another message.
This one was dated three months earlier.
Daniel:
Maria cannot learn she is Edward's daughter until we know where the money went.
Vivian:
And if she does?
Daniel:
Then we make her believe she has no claim.
I stopped.
Margaret took the phone from me.
Her hands were shaking.
“He lied to me.”
I looked at her.
“Maybe he lied to everyone.”
The next morning, Daniel was still missing.
The police arrived.
They questioned everyone.
Vivian was brought back to the estate.
She sat in the library with two officers standing behind her.
She looked different.
Not frightened.
Confident.
I didn't trust that confidence.
The detective introduced herself.
“Detective Collins.”
She was in her early forties, with short brown hair and a calm expression.
She looked at me.
“You're Maria Santos?”
“Yes.”
“You're the person who was framed for the necklace?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“We reviewed the footage.”
“Then you know I didn't steal it.”
“We do.”
Vivian rolled her eyes.
Detective Collins turned toward her.
“Mrs. Harrington, you're not being charged with theft at this moment.”
Vivian smiled.
“Good.”
“But you are being investigated for evidence tampering.”
The smile disappeared.
“I didn't hurt anyone.”
“You deliberately placed stolen property inside another person's belongings.”
“I made a mistake.”
Detective Collins looked at her.
“No.”
Vivian shifted.
“You made a choice.”
Silence.
The detective turned to me.
“We also know about the Harrington inheritance.”
I stiffened.
“How?”
“Financial records.”
“Can you find my brother?”
“We're trying.”
“Do you think he's involved?”
Detective Collins paused.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether Daniel disappeared willingly.”
I looked at the phone.
“Can you trace this?”
She examined it.
“Yes.”
“Then do it.”
She looked at the messages.
Her expression changed.
“What is Account 7421?”
I stared.
“How do you know about that?”
“Because it's mentioned in one of the messages.”
She turned the phone toward me.
A deleted message had been recovered.
7421 is still active.
The money is untouched.
Maria is the only person who can access it.
My heart pounded.
Detective Collins looked at me.
“Do you know what that account contains?”
“No.”
“Then we're going to find out.”
The bank was in another city.
A private institution with no public branches.
Its records were protected by layers of security.
The account had been opened twenty-six years earlier.
The owner was listed as:
M. SANTOS.
My initials.
My birth date.
My mother's full name.
I stared at the screen.
“How is that possible?”
The bank manager looked at me.
“Your father opened it.”
“My father?”
“Edward Harrington.”
I felt dizzy.
“He knew I existed.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't he tell me?”
The manager hesitated.
“He tried.”
“What happened?”
“He was stopped.”
“By whom?”
The manager looked toward Detective Collins.
“I cannot disclose that without legal authorization.”
Detective Collins showed him a court order.
The manager nodded.
Then he opened the account.
The balance appeared.
I stopped breathing.
$38,742,611.84
Thirty-eight million dollars.
I stared at the screen.
“That can't be real.”
“It is.”
Daniel's inheritance.
The Harrington company.
The house.
The jewelry.
All of it suddenly seemed small.
My father had left me a fortune worth nearly forty million dollars.
But there was another problem.
The manager opened the legal documents.
The money could not be transferred.
It was frozen.
“Why?”
“Because the beneficiary hasn't completed the verification.”
“What verification?”
He looked at me.
“You have to prove that you're Edward Harrington's daughter.”
“I already have the birth certificate.”
“That's not enough.”
“What is?”
He handed me a sealed envelope.
“Your father left instructions.”
I opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
My mother holding me as a baby.
Edward standing beside her.
On the back were four words.
THE BLOOD PROVES NOTHING.
I frowned.
Beneath that was another sentence.
THE TRUTH MUST BE CHOSEN.
Detective Collins looked at me.
“What does that mean?”
I shook my head.
“I don't know.”
Then I saw something written in the bottom corner.
A name.
Amelia.
I stared.
“Who is Amelia?”
The bank manager looked at me.
“That's the second beneficiary.”
My heart stopped.
“Second beneficiary?”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
He looked at the document.
“Your father's other daughter.”
The room went silent.
I couldn't speak.
Another daughter.
Another secret.
Another person Edward had hidden.
Detective Collins slowly stood.
“How many children did Edward Harrington have?”
The manager looked at me.
“According to these records…”
He paused.
“Three.”
My heart sank.
“Three?”
“Yes.”
“Who is the third?”
He shook his head.
“Unknown.”
That evening, I returned to the Harrington estate.
Margaret was waiting in the library.
I placed the bank documents on the table.
She stared at them.
“You found it.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-eight million dollars.”
She closed her eyes.
“I knew it.”
“You knew?”
“Your father told me he had created an account.”
“You knew where it was?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
“He told me one thing.”
“What?”
“That if you ever came looking for your inheritance, it meant the family had failed you.”
I looked at her.
“And they did.”
She lowered her head.
“Yes.”
I pulled out the photograph.
“Who is Amelia?”
Margaret went completely still.
I watched her face.
“You know her.”
She didn't answer.
“Margaret.”
Still nothing.
“Who is Amelia?”
She finally whispered:
“Your father's second daughter.”
I stared.
“Where is she?”
Margaret looked toward the window.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I haven't seen her in twenty years.”
“Why?”
“Because she disappeared.”
“Who took her?”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“Your father.”
I felt sick.
“What?”
“He sent her away.”
“Why?”
“To protect her.”
“From whom?”
Margaret looked at me.
“From the same person who tried to kill him.”
My voice dropped.
“Who?”
Margaret didn't answer.
Then a voice came from behind us.
“Me.”
I turned.
Vivian stood in the doorway.
Her face was expressionless.
“You?”
She smiled.
“My family has been cleaning up Edward Harrington's secrets for twenty-six years.”
Margaret stood.
“Vivian, stop.”
Vivian ignored her.
She looked at me.
“You want to know why your father hid you?”
“Yes.”
“You want to know why Amelia disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“And you want to know who took the money?”
“Yes.”
Vivian's smile widened.
“Then you need to understand one thing.”
She stepped into the room.
“Edward Harrington wasn't murdered because he was rich.”
She paused.
“He was murdered because he was going to expose someone.”
“Who?”
Vivian looked directly at Margaret.
“Someone inside this family.”
Margaret's face went white.
Then the front door opened.
Daniel walked into the house.
His suit was torn.
There was blood on his collar.
I ran toward him.
“Daniel!”
He raised one hand.
“Don't.”
I stopped.
His eyes were filled with fear.
He looked at Vivian.
Then Margaret.
Then me.
“Maria…”
“What happened?”
He swallowed.
“I found Amelia.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
Daniel looked toward the locked front door.
“She found me first.”
“Where is she?”
He shook his head.
“She isn't coming here.”
“Why?”
His voice dropped.
“Because she's running from the same person who is hunting you.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
Daniel looked directly at me.
And whispered:
“Your father is not the only Harrington who was murdered.”
The room fell silent.
Then Daniel placed a bloodstained envelope on the table.
Written across it were three words:
FOR MARIA ONLY.
And underneath:
FROM AMELIA.
I reached for it.
But before my fingers touched the envelope, the lights went out again.
May you like
This time, we heard a gunshot.
To be continued.
