Chapter 2 - THE ENCRYPTED THREAT"What was that?" Ryan demanded, taking a step toward me, completely ignoring his mother and the trembling woman holding a rubber belly on the floor.
"Nothing that concerns you anymore, Ryan," I replied, my voice steady and cold. I reached down and picked up my suitcase handle. "You told me I was finished here. You pushed my bags to the door. Remember?"
"Katherine, wait," Ryan said, his voice cracking with a desperation I hadn't heard in years. He reached out to grab my wrist, but I yanked my arm back, stepping out onto the porch.
"Don't touch me," I whispered fiercely. "You made your bed, Ryan. Now lie in it—right next to the plastic."
I didn't look back as I walked down the marble steps to my car. But as I tossed my suitcase into the trunk, I glanced up at the second-floor window of the study. The light was flickering. Someone was inside the house. Someone who shouldn't have been there.
My phone buzzed again. Another message from the anonymous sender:
“Don’t leave the estate yet, Katherine. If you drive away now, you’ll miss the police sirens. Go to the study. Use the emergency key behind the oil painting.”
My fingers hovered over the screen. It was a trap, or a lifeline. But looking back at the mansion, I knew I had nothing left to lose. Ryan had humiliated me, tried to throw me out like trash to make way for a fraud, and danced to his mother’s manipulative tune. If there was a bomb ticking inside the Sterling family, I wanted to be there when it detonated.
I slipped back through the side service entrance, moving silently through the familiar hallways until I reached the heavy mahogany doors of Ryan’s private study.
The door was unlocked.
I pushed it open. The room was dark, illuminated only by the pale moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Standing by the large antique desk was a figure in a black coat, rifling frantically through the top drawer.
"Stop right there," I said, flipping the wall switch.
The sudden burst of light flooded the room. The figure froze, slowly turning around.
It wasn't a burglar. It was Elena’s personal attorney, Arthur Vance.
Arthur blinked against the harsh light, a nervous sweat beading on his forehead. He quickly slammed the desk drawer shut, his hands trembling. "Mrs. Sterling... or I suppose, former Mrs. Sterling. You shouldn't be here."
"That makes two of us, Arthur," I said, stepping into the room and blocking the doorway. "What are you looking for? Or more importantly, what did Elena pay you to hide?"
Arthur forced a tight, brittle smile, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. "You have a wild imagination, Katherine. I was simply retrieving legal documents regarding the asset division—"
"Don't insult my intelligence," I interrupted, marching straight toward the large oil painting of Ryan’s late grandfather hanging behind the desk. I remembered the anonymous message: Use the emergency key behind the oil painting.
Arthur’s face turned sheet white. "Don't you dare—"
I reached up, grabbed the heavy gilded frame, and swung it aside. Revealed behind it was a small, biometric wall safe, glowing with a soft red standby light.
"You don't have the code, Katherine," Arthur said, regaining a shred of confidence. "Only Elena and Ryan—"
Before he could finish, my phone buzzed for the third time. I looked down at the screen.
“Code: 1988-04-12. Enter it now.”
I didn't hesitate. I punched in the numbers on the digital keypad.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Click.
May you like
The heavy steel door of the safe swung open. Arthur let out a gasp of pure horror.
Inside the safe wasn't money or gold. It was a thick, yellowed manila folder labeled with a single word in bold red ink: TRUTH.
