Chapter 2 — The Grandfather’s Office
Chapter 2 — The Grandfather’s Office
The old Bennett office stood three blocks from the harbor, wedged between a shuttered marine supply store and a brick building that had once housed my grandfather's accounting firm.
I hadn't been inside in eleven years.
Not since the funeral.
Adrian parked across the street.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Rain tapped against the windshield.
I stared at the building.
The sign above the door was almost impossible to read now.
BENNETT & SONS — MARITIME CONSULTING
The gold lettering had faded to brown.
"My grandfather stopped using this place years before he died," I said.
Adrian turned off the engine.
"No."
I looked at him.
"He stopped using it publicly."
My stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?"
"It means your grandfather kept this office after everyone thought he'd closed it."
"How do you know?"
"My father told me."
I stared at him.
"You've known about this place."
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Eleven years."
I opened the door.
Adrian caught my arm.
"Wait."
I looked back.
"There may be someone watching."
I almost laughed.
"At this point, I don't think anything would surprise me."
"That's exactly why you should be careful."
He got out first.
We crossed the street together.
The key I'd found in the envelope from my grandfather's house was cold in my palm.
It fit the front door.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Dust filled the air.
The office smelled exactly as I remembered.
Old paper.
Wood.
Coffee.
My grandfather's tobacco pipe, even though he'd stopped smoking years before his death.
I stepped inside.
The room was dark.
Adrian reached for the light.
Nothing happened.
"Electricity was disconnected," I said.
"Probably."
"Probably?"
He took out his phone and turned on the flashlight.
"Nobody has used this place officially in years."
I walked farther inside.
The furniture was covered with white sheets.
A clock hung crookedly on the wall.
It had stopped at 11:17.
I stared at it.
"That's the time he died."
Adrian said nothing.
I turned toward him.
"You knew?"
"Your family told everyone your grandfather died at 11:17."
"How did you know?"
He looked at the clock.
"My father told me."
Something cold moved through me.
"Your father knew the exact time."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
The answer irritated me.
"You always say that."
"Because sometimes it's the truth."
I turned away.
The office was full of things I remembered from childhood.
A framed photograph of my grandfather shaking hands with businessmen.
A wooden ship model on the shelf.
His old leather chair.
The brass lamp he'd used every night.
I walked toward the desk.
My fingers brushed the surface.
"After he died, Mom said everything here had been cleared out."
"It wasn't."
"Who came here?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
"My father."
I looked at him.
"When?"
"The night after your grandfather died."
My heart began beating faster.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Adrian."
He met my eyes.
"I was twenty-nine. My father didn't tell me everything he did."
"But you knew he came here."
"Yes."
"And you never thought to tell me?"
"No."
"Why?"
He looked away.
"Because I was following his instructions."
"What instructions?"
He was silent for so long that I almost thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he said:
"If Cole ever betrayed you, I was supposed to protect you."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"My father gave me that instruction eleven years ago."
I laughed.
It came out hollow.
"You expect me to believe your father planned for my fiancé to cheat on me?"
"No."
"Then what exactly was he planning?"
Adrian walked toward the desk.
"I don't know."
"That's convenient."
He stopped.
"You don't have to trust me, Emma."
"I don't."
"I know."
He opened a drawer.
It was empty.
He opened another.
Nothing.
Then he knelt.
There was a narrow wooden panel beneath the desk.
He ran his fingers along the edge.
"This wasn't here by accident."
He pressed the corner.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a small metal box.
My breath caught.
Adrian looked at me.
"You open it."
I hesitated.
Then I reached inside.
The box contained three things.
A folded letter.
A thick envelope.
And a small brass key.
I picked up the letter first.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My grandfather.
I unfolded it.
Only one sentence was written across the page.
If Emma is ever brought into the Marston family, she must know the truth before she signs anything.
I looked up.
"Signs what?"
Adrian's expression had changed.
"Keep reading."
There was nothing else.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of an old agreement.
The title was printed in capital letters.
THE BENNETT-MARSTON AGREEMENT
My hands started shaking.
"I've never seen this."
"I have."
"How?"
"My father had a copy."
"Of course he did."
I looked down at the pages.
There were signatures.
My grandfather's.
Richard Marston's.
And beneath them, a date.
October 14, 2009.
My eyes stopped.
"That's the year before he died."
Adrian nodded.
I kept reading.
Most of the document was legal language I barely understood.
Property.
Voting rights.
Trust obligations.
Beneficiary protections.
Then I found the clause Adrian had shown me the night before.
I read it slowly.
IN THE EVENT OF BETRAYAL BY THE DESIGNATED MARSTON HEIR, CONTROL SHALL PASS TO THE PROTECTED BENNETT BENEFICIARY.
I looked at Adrian.
"Who's the beneficiary?"
He didn't answer.
I felt my pulse in my throat.
"Adrian."
He took the document from me.
"Your grandfather never named you directly on this page."
"Then who?"
"There are other documents."
"Where?"
He looked around the office.
"That's what we're here to find."
We searched for nearly an hour.
Nothing.
No hidden files.
No trust papers.
No explanation.
Only dust and old furniture.
I was beginning to think the entire thing had been some elaborate mistake when I noticed the ship model on the shelf.
It was the same model my grandfather had kept in his study at home.
I walked toward it.
One of the tiny sails was broken.
I touched the mast.
It moved.
I froze.
"Adrian."
He came over.
I pointed.
The entire base of the ship was loose.
Adrian lifted it.
Underneath was a small keyhole.
I pulled the brass key from my pocket.
It fit.
The base opened.
Inside was a folded map.
Adrian spread it across the desk.
I recognized Port Mercy immediately.
The harbor.
The warehouses.
The old docks.
The construction yards.
And a large section of waterfront outlined in red.
"What is this?"
"The Bennett property."
I looked at him.
"My grandfather owned this?"
"Not exactly."
"What does that mean?"
Adrian pointed to a notation along the shoreline.
B-17 TRUST HOLDING
I stared.
"That's the old shipping district."
"Yes."
"That's worth millions."
"More than that."
My mouth went dry.
"How much?"
"I don't know the current valuation."
"Adrian."
He looked at me.
"Enough that people would lie for it."
I looked back at the map.
Suddenly, the anonymous messages made sense.
The affair.
The wedding.
The trust.
Cole's strange behavior.
The documents.
The black sedan.
All of it seemed connected.
Except one thing.
Me.
"Why me?"
Adrian's eyes remained on the map.
"Because you're the beneficiary."
I shook my head.
"No. My father would have told me."
"Would he?"
I looked at him sharply.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Adrian took a slow breath.
"Your grandfather didn't trust many people."
"He trusted my father."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"He trusted your father enough to leave him a responsibility."
"What responsibility?"
"To keep you away from the Marston family."
I stared at him.
"But I was engaged to Cole."
"Exactly."
The room seemed suddenly smaller.
"Then why didn't you stop it?"
Adrian didn't answer.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried."
"When?"
"Three years ago."
I frowned.
"I never spoke to you three years ago."
"I sent you a letter."
My eyes narrowed.
"What letter?"
"The day Cole proposed."
I shook my head.
"I never received it."
Adrian's face hardened.
"Then someone intercepted it."
Silence filled the office.
A thought came to me.
"Tessa."
Adrian looked at me.
"Why would Tessa intercept a letter?"
"I don't know."
"Then who?"
He didn't answer.
I stepped away.
"Everyone seems to know something about my life except me."
"That's why we're here."
"No."
I looked at him.
"We're here because you need something from me."
His expression didn't change.
"What would I need from you?"
"The trust."
"No."
"The property."
"No."
"The agreement."
He shook his head.
"Emma, if I wanted control of the Bennett Trust, I wouldn't be standing here explaining how you can keep it."
That silenced me.
He continued.
"If you activate the protection clause, the Marston family's ability to control that property becomes limited."
"And yours?"
"Mine too."
I looked at him.
For the first time, I believed him.
Maybe not completely.
But enough.
A sound came from the hallway.
We both froze.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Then silence.
Adrian moved in front of me.
"Stay here."
"No."
"Emma."
"I'm not hiding behind you."
He looked at me for a second.
Then nodded.
The footsteps came again.
Closer.
A shadow moved beneath the office door.
Adrian reached for the handle.
The door opened.
Nobody was there.
The hallway was empty.
But on the floor sat a white envelope.
Adrian picked it up.
There was no name.
Only one sentence written across the front.
YOU WERE WARNED.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
My grandfather.
Standing outside this very office.
Beside him was Richard Marston.
And beside Richard—
was my father.
I stared at the photograph.
"My father was here?"
Adrian nodded.
"When?"
He turned the photograph over.
A date was written on the back.
October 13, 2010.
The day before my grandfather died.
My knees weakened.
Adrian caught my elbow.
I pulled away.
"My father told me he wasn't here."
"I know."
"You knew?"
"No."
I stared at the photograph.
"Then someone has been lying to me for eleven years."
Adrian looked toward the dark hallway.
"Maybe more than one person."
We left the office shortly after midnight.
Adrian locked the door.
I stood beside him beneath the awning.
Rain had stopped.
The harbor lights reflected on the wet pavement.
"I need to ask you something."
"Ask."
"Did your father have anything to do with my grandfather's death?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
"I don't know."
I looked away.
"I hate that answer."
"So do I."
He took the photograph from his coat and handed it to me.
"Keep this."
"Why?"
"Because someone wanted you to find it."
"How do you know?"
"Because they could have left it anywhere."
He looked at the building.
"They left it in the one place where you'd understand what it meant."
I slipped the photograph into my bag.
"Who do you think is behind this?"
"I don't know yet."
"Cole?"
"Maybe."
"Tessa?"
"Maybe."
"Your family?"
His eyes met mine.
"Maybe."
I studied him.
"And you?"
He didn't flinch.
"Maybe."
I almost smiled.
"You really don't make this easy."
"I don't want you to trust me because I make it easy."
"What do you want?"
He looked toward the harbor.
"I want you alive long enough to find out the truth."
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I opened the message.
Your grandfather didn't die because he was old.
Another message arrived.
Ask Adrian what happened at 11:17.
I looked up.
Adrian was watching me.
"What is it?"
I showed him the screen.
His face became unreadable.
Then he took out his phone.
"Call your mother."
"Why?"
"Ask her one question."
"What question?"
"Who told her your grandfather died at 11:17?"
I stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because your grandfather's death certificate says 11:42."
The world seemed to stop.
"What?"
Adrian's voice was quiet.
"I checked the records years ago."
"Then why did everyone say 11:17?"
"I don't know."
He looked toward the harbor.
"But now we know someone changed the story."
I swallowed.
The rain had stopped completely.
The city around us was quiet.
Too quiet.
Then Adrian's phone rang.
He answered.
"Yes?"
He listened.
His expression changed.
"Where?"
A pause.
"Don't touch anything."
He hung up.
"What happened?"
He looked at me.
"Someone broke into the Bennett Trust archives."
My heart sank.
"Who?"
"We don't know."
He opened the passenger door for me.
I got inside.
As he walked around the car, I looked back at the old office.
One upstairs window was illuminated.
I was certain it had been dark when we left.
I watched the silhouette move behind the glass.
A person.
Standing perfectly still.
Watching us.
Then the light went out.
And I realized something.
Someone had known we were coming.
May you like
Someone had known exactly what we would find.
And someone had been waiting eleven years for Emma Bennett to discover the truth.
