Chapter 3 - THE WATCH IN THE DRAWER
The sound came again.
A sharp crash from the second floor.
Everyone froze.
Noah immediately stepped in front of me.
“Stay behind me.”
Leo moved toward the staircase.
Caleb was already speaking quietly into his phone.
“Lock down the upper floor. Nobody enters or leaves.”
Isaac looked toward the ceiling.
“What the hell is happening in my house?”
Julian gave him a cold glance.
“Apparently, we're discovering that your house has more secrets than rooms.”
Another crash followed.
Then footsteps.
Fast.
Someone was running upstairs.
Leo disappeared through the doorway.
Two security officers followed.
I stood beside Noah, staring at the old photograph still in his hand.
“Why would Dad trust Arthur?”
Noah didn't answer.
Arthur did.
“Because I owed him.”
The words stopped me.
“You owed him what?”
Arthur looked toward the staircase.
“Everything.”
Before he could explain, Leo returned.
His expression was controlled, but serious.
“Someone was in the office.”
“Who?” Noah asked.
“Gone.”
Caleb frowned.
“Through which exit?”
Leo held up a small object.
A brass key.
“Hidden passage behind the library.”
Isaac stared at him.
“We don't have a hidden passage.”
Leo looked at him.
“You do now.”
The Vance family looked increasingly unsettled.
Marcus took the key.
“Where does it lead?”
“To the old carriage house.”
Arthur suddenly looked terrified.
“Don't go there.”
Noah noticed.
“So that's where we're going.”
Arthur shook his head.
“You don't understand.”
“No,” Noah said.
“You're right. We don't.”
He looked at me.
“Flora comes with us.”
We crossed the estate through a side corridor.
The house felt completely different now.
An hour earlier, it had been a palace.
Now every locked door looked like a warning.
At the end of the corridor stood an old library.
Leo found the hidden mechanism behind a bookshelf.
The wall shifted.
A narrow passage appeared.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and old wood.
I held Noah's coat tighter around me.
“Dad knew about this?”
Arthur followed us.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Arthur stopped.
“Because your father helped build this estate.”
I turned.
“What?”
He nodded.
“Your father was the architect of the original Vance headquarters.”
That was something I had never known.
My father had always been described as a small-town contractor.
A hardworking man.
Nothing more.
Arthur looked at me.
“He was brilliant.”
Noah's jaw tightened.
“You never told us.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Arthur looked at the passage.
“Of the people who wanted what your father had discovered.”
We reached the carriage house.
Inside was an old wooden desk.
A metal cabinet.
And several boxes covered with sheets.
Caleb moved quickly.
“Don't touch anything yet.”
Marcus examined the labels.
Then stopped.
“Flora.”
He pointed.
One box had my name on it.
Not my married name.
My maiden name.
FLORA STERLING.
My heart started pounding.
I lifted the lid.
Inside was a bracelet.
Thin gold.
A tiny blue stone set in the center.
I recognized it immediately.
“My mother.”
I picked it up.
My mother had worn it every day until she died.
I had been told it was buried with her.
I looked at Arthur.
“You said this was gone.”
Arthur looked down.
“I thought it was.”
Noah reached for it.
Inside the clasp was a tiny engraving.
A number.
Marcus frowned.
“That's not jewelry engraving.”
Caleb examined it.
“It's a reference.”
“To what?”
He shook his head.
“Not sure.”
I turned the bracelet over.
A folded piece of paper had been hidden inside the lining.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
One sentence.
“If they ever come for Flora, give her the watch.”
Noah looked at Arthur.
“What watch?”
Arthur didn't answer.
Wendy did.
“The one Isaac's grandfather kept.”
Isaac stared at her.
“What watch?”
She looked at him.
“The gold pocket watch.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“It's in my desk.”
Marcus immediately looked toward the house.
“Then we go back.”
We returned to the study.
Arthur unlocked the desk.
Inside was an old gold pocket watch.
I knew it before he handed it to me.
My father had owned one exactly like it.
I opened the cover.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother.
My father.
And me as a little girl.
But there was something else.
A second photograph.
One I had never seen.
My father stood beside Arthur Vance.
Both men looked younger.
Between them was another man.
I stared.
“Who is that?”
Arthur whispered,
“Elliot Kane.”
Noah frowned.
“Who?”
Arthur looked at him.
“The man who almost destroyed both our families.”
The room went silent.
Marcus took the watch.
There was a small compartment beneath the photograph.
He opened it.
Inside was a tiny memory card.
Caleb smiled grimly.
“Now we're getting somewhere.”
He inserted it into a secure device.
A video appeared.
My father sat at a desk.
Older than I remembered him.
Tired.
But alive.
My breath caught.
Noah stepped closer.
The recording began.
“If Flora is watching this, then something has gone wrong.”
I covered my mouth.
My father continued.
“Your brothers will want answers. They deserve them.”
He looked directly into the camera.
“But the first thing you must understand is this.”
He paused.
“The Vance family is not your enemy.”
Arthur lowered his head.
My father continued.
“The danger comes from someone inside both families.”
The recording cut to black.
Nobody spoke.
Then the screen lit again.
A second recording.
This time, my father was speaking urgently.
“If they tell you the Sterling trust belongs to you, don't believe them.”
Marcus sat forward.
“What?”
My father continued.
“The trust does not belong to Flora.”
He looked frightened.
“It belongs to all six Sterling children.”
Noah went still.
Leo whispered,
“What?”
I looked at my brothers.
Then my father said the words that changed everything.
“And one of those six children was never told the truth about who they are.”
The video ended.
Nobody breathed.
Then Isaac spoke.
“That doesn't make sense.”
Caleb slowly turned toward him.
“Maybe it does.”
He looked at the family photograph.
“Flora was one of six.”
I stared at him.
“My mother only had six children.”
Caleb shook his head.
“No.”
He pointed to the old photograph.
“There are seven shadows.”
I looked.
He was right.
Behind my father stood another small figure.
A child.
Partially hidden.
My blood ran cold.
“Who is that?”
Nobody answered.
Then the old pocket watch began ticking.
And from inside the case came a faint mechanical click.
A compartment opened.
Inside was a small child’s drawing.
Six stick figures.
One woman.
One man.
And a seventh child.
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Written underneath in childish handwriting were four words:
“DON'T LET THEM FIND HIM.”
