Chapter 4

Professor Damian King's project was time-sensitive.

He required me to arrive at Oxford within three days.

His tone was hesitant, worried I might have commitments here that would prevent me from coming on schedule.

My answer was immediate. "No need to worry, Professor King."

"I'll be there on time."

There was nothing left here to make me look back.

I packed everything I needed and bought a ticket for the earliest flight the next morning.

I wanted to spend the last bit of time with grandmother—to say a final goodbye to the fortress where I'd lived for over twenty years.

At dusk, I stood before the familiar porch of grandmother's house.

The key slid into the lock, but I found the door already ajar.

Inside came the chaotic sounds of ransacking.

I held my breath and gently pushed the door open.

What I saw made my blood run cold.

My parents and Felicity were tearing through grandmother's belongings like bandits.

Every drawer had been yanked out completely, contents scattered across the floor.

The wardrobe doors hung wide open, grandmother's neatly folded clothes roughly disturbed.

Even the mattress had been partially lifted.

I was about to rush in when my mother's voice stopped me.

"—Thank God Sebastian believed that evidence!"

Her voice carried the relief of someone who'd dodged disaster. "Otherwise, our Felicity would be in prison right now! Just thinking about it is terrifying!"

So it was true.

This wasn't as simple as I'd thought.

"Mom, don't talk about it," Felicity said, unable to hide her smugness. "Of course Sebastian believes me. He's too smart to fall for Evelyn's clumsy tricks."

Father struggled to move grandmother's bedside table, panting as he added: "The point is to find Mom's jewelry! That day when Felicity came to get it, she was discovered by the old... by Mom, and that's what caused the trouble. It must still be in this house!"

Now I understood.

They'd come here while I was away—not to mourn, not to grieve.

They were here to loot!

Rage surged to my head.

I barely contained my impulse to storm in, every ounce of my lawyer's instinct telling me: This is evidence, delivered right to your doorstep.

I retreated into the shadows of the porch and pulled out my phone, starting a video recording.

Inside, after searching every corner, they'd found nothing.

Mother was growing agitated. "How can there be nothing? Where else could that old woman have hidden it?"

"It must be Evelyn!" Felicity's voice turned shrill. "That bitch must have it! She took all of grandmother's things for herself! She always knew that jewelry was valuable, sweet-talking grandmother into leaving everything to her! And we're treated like outsiders!"

"That ungrateful bastard!" Father viciously kicked one of grandmother's cherished old boxes. "We raised her all these years, and she hoards the old woman's assets while we starve! If we hadn't worked our fingers to the bone back then, would she have had such a good life later?!"

Ha. I nearly laughed out loud.

The modest savings grandmother had worked so hard to accumulate in her youth—weren't they squandered by you "hardworking" parents time and again?

When grandmother grew old with nothing left but this small house and a few pieces of jewelry, you still had the audacity to accuse me of hoarding?

Fortunately, grandmother had the foresight.

Long ago, she'd had me deposit everything in the bank where no one but me could withdraw it.

Suddenly, Mother grabbed the last photo of grandmother and me and smashed it to the floor!

The glass frame shattered into pieces.

"Not a single photo of us in this house—all of this bitch! Smash them all! I can't stand looking at them! The old hag left everything to that sickly burden instead of our Felicity!"

"Right! Smash them!" Felicity egged them on. "Just thinking about those two disgusts me! That bitch Evelyn better die out there and never come back!"

Vicious curses, shattering glass, their heavy breathing—all woven together into the ugliest, most horrifying scene I'd ever witnessed.

I silently held up my phone, recording every bit of it.

I knew exactly what I had: my final trump card.