Chapter 2 - The Secrets Under the Floorboards
🚨 FACEBOOK TRENDING HEADLINE: "I found a hidden compartment under my dead husband's closet—and the tape inside exposed my own family's ultimate betrayal!"The drive back to Beacon Hill was a blur of tears and gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. My mind was spinning. The text message burned a hole in my consciousness. They dug him up. It didn't make sense. Adam had been buried in a sealed casket three weeks ago.
When I let myself into the empty Victorian house, the silence was no longer peaceful—it felt haunted. I walked upstairs to our master bedroom, my heels clicking loudly against the hardwood. I went straight into Adam’s walk-in closet, where his suits still smelled faintly of his sandalwood cologne.
I knelt down on the floor, pulling back the heavy wool rug. I began tapping the oak floorboards, just like the text message had implied. Near the back corner, beneath his shoe rack, one of the boards clicked. It was loose.
Using a small metal nail file from my purse, I pried the board up.
Nested in the dusty space between the joists was a sleek, black external hard drive and a handwritten note in Adam’s unmistakable, blue-ink cursive.
Bridget, my love, If you are reading this, it means I am gone, and Cassandra has played her hand. I am so sorry I couldn't protect you from this while I was alive. I discovered what she was planning three months ago. She didn't act alone. Do not trust the estate lawyer, Marcus Vance. And Bridget... check the home security footage from the night before my headache started. I love you.
My breath hitched. Marcus Vance was Adam’s closest friend from law school. He was the one currently handling Adam’s probate estate. He was the one who had sat in my living room two weeks ago, holding my hand and crying with me over Adam’s sudden aneurysm.
I plugged the hard drive into my laptop. A single folder popped up labeled: EMERGENCY.
Inside were medical documents, banking statements, and a video file. I clicked the video. Adam’s face filled the screen. He looked tired, lines of stress etched deeply around his eyes.
"Bridget," Adam on the screen spoke, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. "If you’re seeing this, my sudden death wasn't an accident. Cassandra came to my office four months ago. She told me she was pregnant by a donor, but she needed money. When I refused to give her a loan from our marital funds, she threatened me. She said she knew a way to take everything we owned. A week later, Marcus Vance approached me with a weird question about my medical history. I realized they were working together."
Adam took a deep breath on the video, looking directly into the camera. "Marcus had access to my medical files because he helped set up our health insurance trust. They forged a will, yes. But Cassandra is smarter than she looks. She knew I was sterile, Bridget. That's why she didn't need me to get her pregnant. She needed my DNA after I was gone to falsify a maternity-paternity match using a corrupt lab Marcus controls."
The video suddenly cut out as a loud knock echoed through my actual front door down downstairs.
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I froze. I crept to the window and looked down at the street.
Parked in my driveway was a black luxury sedan. Standing on my porch, holding a sleek leather briefcase, was Marcus Vance. And standing right behind him, with a smirk of pure malice on her face, was my sister, Cassandra.
