Chapter 3: The Locked Room on the Third Floor
Nathaniel didn't sleep that night.
Neither did I.
At 6:15 the following morning, Marcus drove us back to the Callaway estate in a black SUV.
The wedding decorations were still everywhere.
White roses covered the entrance staircase. Champagne glasses remained scattered across the rooftop terrace. The enormous wedding cake stood untouched in the ballroom, its sugar flowers beginning to collapse beneath the warm lights.
It looked like the aftermath of a celebration nobody wanted to remember.
Nathaniel walked straight toward the staircase.
“Marcus, bring me the security recordings from yesterday.””
“Yes, sir.””
“And nobody enters the third floor without my permission.””
Marcus nodded.
I followed Nathaniel upstairs.
“Sir?””
He stopped.
“What is it?””
“Mrs. Callaway mentioned the blue room. I think she meant your father's old study.””
His eyes narrowed.
“You've seen it?””
“Only from the hallway.””
“Why didn't you mention that yesterday?””
“Because I didn't know it was important.””
Nathaniel looked at the locked door at the end of the corridor.
A brass plaque beside it read:
*EDWARD CALLAWAY — PRIVATE STUDY*
His father had died sixteen years earlier.
Since then, nobody had entered that room.
Not even Nathaniel.
He removed a key from his pocket.
“Marcus gave me this when we inherited the house.””
The lock clicked.
The door opened with a long creak.
A faint smell of leather, cedarwood, and old paper drifted into the hallway.
Everything inside appeared untouched.
A large mahogany desk stood near the windows. Books filled the shelves. A framed photograph showed Edward Callaway standing beside a much younger Nathaniel.
On the desk sat a small brass clock.
Nathaniel walked toward it slowly.
“My father used to wind this every morning,” he said.
I stayed near the entrance.
“Do you think your mother meant this room?””
“There's only one way to find out.””
He began opening drawers.
The first contained old fountain pens.
The second held photographs and business cards.
The third was locked.
Nathaniel pulled at it.
“Marcus!””
His security director appeared in the doorway.
“Sir?””
“Get me a screwdriver.””
Marcus disappeared.
While we waited, I noticed a narrow blue ribbon sticking out from beneath a stack of books.
I stepped closer.
“Mr. Callaway?””
He turned.
“What?””
I pointed toward the shelf.
“There's something behind those books.””
He moved them aside.
A small blue envelope lay hidden against the wooden panel.
Nathaniel pulled it free.
His fingers stopped when he saw the handwriting.
For Nathaniel. To be opened only when Eleanor believes the time has come.
It was signed by his father.
Nathaniel sat down heavily.
“Why would my father leave this here?””
I didn't answer.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of paper and a small photograph.
The photograph showed Edward standing outside a bank with a man I didn't recognize.
On the back, someone had written:
The truth cannot be bought.
Nathaniel unfolded the paper.
His expression changed with every line.
“What is it?”” I asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he read the first paragraph again.
Then he handed me the letter.
It explained that Edward had established a private family trust worth nearly four hundred million dollars. The trust was meant to protect Nathaniel's inheritance from business partners, creditors, and anyone who might try to exploit his future marriage.
But there was a condition.
The beneficiary could access the principal only after his thirty-fifth birthday, unless the trustees determined that fraud or coercion was taking place.
Nathaniel was thirty-four.
His birthday was six weeks away.
I looked at him.
“Does Victoria know about this?””
“She shouldn't.””
“Then how did she find out?””
He stared at the final paragraph.
“Because the trust was never supposed to be managed by my family alone.””
He read the names of the trustees.
One was a respected attorney.
The other was a man named Richard Hale.
Nathaniel went pale.
“What's wrong?””
“Richard was my father's financial adviser.””
“Was?””
“He died three years ago.””
Marcus returned with a screwdriver.
Nathaniel held up a hand.
“Wait.””
He looked at the letter again.
There was a handwritten addition at the bottom.
If anything happens to Eleanor, contact the original trustee. Do not trust the replacement.
Nathaniel read the sentence twice.
“Replacement?”” I asked.
He nodded slowly.
“Someone must have taken Richard's position.””
He called Marcus.
“Find out who currently manages my father's trust.””
Marcus pulled out his phone.
“Give me a few minutes.””
Nathaniel walked toward the window.
Outside, the gardens were immaculate. The wedding arch still stood near the fountain, surrounded by white roses.
He looked exhausted.
“Rose, how long have you worked here?””
“Almost two years.””
“Have you ever seen Victoria in this room?””
I hesitated.
“Yes.””
He turned sharply.
“When?””
“Yesterday morning. Before the ceremony.””
“What was she doing?””
“She came out carrying a blue envelope.””
Nathaniel looked at the envelope in his hand.
“Did she see you?””
“I don't think so.””
He stared at the letter.
Then his phone rang.
Marcus answered first, listening carefully.
His face darkened.
“Sir, I have something.””
Nathaniel took the call.
“What?””
“According to the latest trust records, the replacement trustee was appointed eleven months ago.””
“Who appointed him?””
“Your mother's signature appears on the authorization.””
Nathaniel frowned.
“That makes no sense.””
“There's more. The replacement trustee is a man named Adrian Cross.””
Nathaniel went silent.
I recognized the name.
Adrian Cross was a wealthy investment attorney who had attended the wedding.
He'd been standing near Victoria during the reception.
Marcus continued.
“There's a problem with the appointment documents. Your mother says she never signed them.””
Nathaniel looked at me.
“Then someone forged her signature.””
Before he could say anything else, footsteps sounded in the corridor.
A woman's voice followed.
“Nathaniel?””
Victoria.
She appeared in the doorway wearing a silk robe, her wedding makeup gone, her dark hair loosely tied behind her head.
Her eyes moved from Nathaniel to the open envelope.
Then to me.
“What are you doing in here?””
Nathaniel folded the letter.
“Looking for answers.””
Victoria laughed nervously.
“About what?””
“About my father's trust.””
For a fraction of a second, her face went blank.
Then she smiled.
“I don't know what you're talking about.””
Nathaniel held up the blue envelope.
“Do you recognize this?””
Victoria glanced at it.
“No.””
“You were in this room yesterday.””
“I was looking for you.””
“Carrying a blue envelope?””
She crossed her arms.
“Are you seriously accusing me of something because your mother had an accident?””
Nathaniel stepped closer.
“Don't call it an accident.””
Victoria's expression hardened.
“You're letting that maid poison your mind.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
Nathaniel moved between us.
“Don't speak about Rose.””
Victoria stared at him.
Then she did something unexpected.
She began crying.
“Nathaniel, I'm your wife. I stood beside you yesterday and promised to love you. And now you're treating me like a criminal because your mother has always hated me.””
Nathaniel didn't move.
“Did you push her?””
Victoria covered her mouth.
“How could you ask me that?””
“Answer me.””
“I was trying to stop her from falling!””
“Then why did you tell everyone she slipped?””
“Because I panicked!””
Her voice cracked.
For a moment, the room fell silent.
Then she looked at me.
“You saw nothing, Rose. You were too far away to know what happened.””
I stared back at her.
“I caught Mrs. Callaway's dress with my hands.””
Victoria's tears disappeared.
“You ungrateful little—”
“Enough!”” Nathaniel shouted.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Sir, there's another development.””
Nathaniel turned.
“What now?””
Marcus held up his phone.
“The original trustee just called. He says he never approved the replacement appointment.””
“Who is the original trustee?””
Marcus hesitated.
Then he answered.
“Your father's former attorney. A man named Samuel Whitmore.””
Nathaniel frowned.
“Why is he calling now?””
Marcus swallowed.
“Because he says he received a package yesterday morning containing evidence that someone has been stealing money from the trust for eleven months.””
Victoria went completely still.
Nathaniel looked at his wife.
Then at the letter.
“Ask him what evidence.””
Marcus listened.
His face slowly drained of color.
“Sir…”
“What?””
“The package included bank transfers, forged documents, and a photograph.””
Nathaniel's voice dropped.
“What photograph?””
Marcus looked directly at Victoria.
“It shows Mrs. Callaway meeting someone in secret three days before the wedding.””
Victoria took a step backward.
Nathaniel grabbed the desk.
“Who was she meeting?””
Marcus hesitated.
Then he turned the phone so Nathaniel could see the image.
It was Eleanor.
Standing outside a private banking office.
Beside Adrian Cross.
And between them was a woman whose face made Nathaniel stop breathing.
His bride.
Victoria.
But the photograph had been taken three days before the wedding.
And according to Marcus, Eleanor had told the original trustee that Victoria was the person stealing from the family.
May you like
*The question was no longer why Victoria had pushed Eleanor.*
*It was what Eleanor had discovered—and whether the wedding itself had been part of the plan.*
