CHAPTER 5: THE HIDDEN POCKET
CHAPTER 5: THE HIDDEN POCKET
The peace lasted exactly three months.
It was a fragile kind of quiet, the kind you don't fully trust because you spent a lifetime bracing for the next blow.
Then, Maisie accidentally dropped Grandpa's silver photo frame.
The glass didn't shatter, but the old wooden backing slid entirely out of its tracks, revealing a small, hidden pocket in the velvet lining. Inside lay a tarnished brass key and a handwritten note from Grandpa.
To my real heir.
My heart stopped.
The father had spent years claiming Grandpa left nothing behind but the mismanaged trust fund. He had lied. Again. Always lying to keep control.
I looked at the key in my palm, its metal cold against my skin.
“What is it, Mom?” Maisie asked, looking up from the floor.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a gentle smile.
“It’s a secret from Grandpa,” I said.
May you like
“A good secret?”
“The best kind,” I promised.
