Chapter 5 - Caught in the Archives"What are you doing in my house?" I roared, flicking on the main overhead lights.
Bernice spun around, clutching a weathered leather box to her chest. Her hair was disheveled, her usual pristine composure completely shattered. She had used her spare key—one I had forgotten to demand back—to sneak through the back entrance.
"You weren't supposed to see that email," Bernice snarled, her voice dropping the maternal sweetness she usually weaponized. "You were supposed to stay blind, happy, and compliant."
"Hand over the box, Mom—or whatever you really are," I demanded, stepping forward, the metal stand held firmly in my hand.
Bernice let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "You think you're so smart, Christopher? You think by marrying a sweet little librarian you've escaped my shadow? You are my insurance policy. Both of you."
"Insurance for what?" Savannah’s voice rang out from the doorway. She had ignored my instructions to stay put, her eyes blazing with protective fury as she stepped into the garage.
Bernice’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Savannah’s swollen belly. "Insurance against the truth of what happened twenty-eight years ago. That baby inside you? It’s the final piece of the puzzle. The bloodline has to be pure, or the trust fund reverts back to the original estate."
My mind stalled. Trust fund? Estate? Bernice had always claimed we lived on a modest middle-class budget, struggling to make ends meet.
"What trust fund?" I demanded. "What are you talking about?"
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Before Bernice could answer, the wail of police sirens pierced the night air. Savannah’s hand slipped out of her pocket, her phone still glowing.
"I called them when you went into the garage," Savannah said coldly. "Breaking and entering, trespassing, and harassment. Game over, Bernice."
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