Chapter 3: The Locked Room
Clara did not sleep.
Her father, Thomas Bennett, had died when she was twelve. Her mother had always said he had been an accountant who lost everything after being accused of stealing from a wealthy client.
Clara had never known the client’s name.
At dawn, Eleanor summoned her to the private breakfast room.
Adrian stood near the window, his expression guarded.
“My mother says she trusts you,” he said.
“She shouldn’t,” Clara replied. “She barely knows me.”
Eleanor looked toward the silver key in Clara’s hand.
“I knew your father.”
Clara stopped breathing.
Eleanor explained that Thomas Bennett had worked for the Blackwood family twenty years earlier. He had discovered unexplained transfers from the family trust.
Before he could present the evidence, he was accused of taking the money himself.
“He was innocent,” Eleanor said.
“Then why didn’t you help him?”
“I tried. My husband stopped me.”
Clara’s eyes burned.
“My father died believing everyone thought he was a thief.”
Adrian lowered his gaze.
Eleanor continued.
“The key opens a private archive room beneath the old library. Your father hid something there before he was dismissed.”
Adrian led Clara through a narrow passage concealed behind a bookshelf. At the bottom of a stone staircase, they found a steel door marked with the number 317.
The key fit.
Inside were shelves of old ledgers, legal records, and sealed correspondence.
Clara found a wooden box with her father’s initials.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
The box was empty.
Someone had already been there.
On the floor lay a torn piece of ivory paper bearing the Ashford family crest.
Adrian picked it up.
“Victoria knew about this room.”
A sound came from the corridor.
Footsteps.
Adrian moved toward the door, but it slammed shut before he reached it.
May you like
The lock turned from the outside.
Then smoke began pouring through the ventilation grate.
