Chapter 3 - The Locked BoxThe writing box had been inside Reed House for twenty-eight years.
His father, Charles Reed, had been capable of worse.
At seventy, Charles remained tall, silver-haired, and intimidating, the kind of man whose silence could still make a roomful of executives sit straighter.
Beside him stood a woman in her late sixties.
She was not Alexander’s mother.
Of course she wasn’t.
But the resemblance was disturbing.
Same pale blue eyes.
Same narrow chin.
Same habit of clasping her hands when nervous.
Alexander stopped several feet away.
Charles gestured.
“This is Evelyn Mercer.”
Alexander stared at him.
“You told my staff her name was Evelyn Reed.”
“I said Evelyn was here. Your assistant made an assumption.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened.
“You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Charles’s expression barely changed.
“I knew it was the only way to make sure you came downstairs instead of sending security to remove me.”
Alexander turned toward Evelyn.
“Who are you?”
The woman looked at Charles, then back at Alexander.
“My name is Evelyn Mercer. Your mother was my younger sister.”
Alexander said nothing.
He had heard almost nothing about his mother’s family.
His father had always claimed there was no one left.
“No.”
“I understand why you don’t believe me.”
“You understand nothing.”
Evelyn slowly reached into her handbag.
Alexander’s bodyguard shifted near the door.
She noticed and stopped.
“It’s only a photograph.”
Alexander gave a short nod.
Evelyn removed an old picture.
Two teenage girls stood beside a lake.
One was unquestionably his mother.
The second girl looked like the woman standing before him.
Alexander’s mouth went dry.
“My mother told me she was an only child.”
Charles finally spoke.
“She lied.”
Alexander turned.
“Why?”
“Because I asked her to.”
The confession was so casual that anger rushed through Alexander’s body.
“Why?”
Charles looked toward the windows.
“Her family did not approve of me.”
“That’s your explanation?”
“No.”
Charles exhaled.
“It’s the beginning.”
Evelyn stepped forward.
“Your mother and I were close until she married Charles. Our father thought Charles cared more about the Reed name than about her. He forbade the marriage.”
“My mother married him anyway.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
Evelyn’s eyes hardened.
“Charles made sure she never came home.”
Alexander looked at his father.
Charles did not deny it.
Something inside Alexander shifted.
All his childhood memories had been built around his father’s version of events.
His mother’s family had abandoned her.
His father had stayed.
His father had suffered.
His father had raised Alexander alone.
Now the foundation was cracking.
“Why are you here?”
Evelyn’s gaze moved toward the shirt Alexander was still carrying over one arm.
Then she froze.
She stared at the blue bird.
“Where did you get that?”
Alexander followed her eyes.
“A child made it.”
“What child?”
“My housekeeper’s daughter.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“May I see it?”
Alexander hesitated before handing her the shirt.
Evelyn touched the embroidered bird with trembling fingertips.
“Oh, my God.”
Charles straightened.
“What?”
Evelyn turned the fabric over.
“Whoever made this learned it from Margaret.”
Alexander frowned.
“Margaret Carter?”
Evelyn looked sharply at him.
“You know that name?”
“My housekeeper said the fabric belonged to her grandmother.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Alexander’s unease grew.
“Who was Margaret Carter?”
When Evelyn opened her eyes again, tears shone in them.
“Your mother’s best friend.”
The words landed heavily.
“She worked for our family when we were girls. Margaret was the daughter of our housekeeper. She and your mother were inseparable.”
Alexander remembered Sophie’s expression upstairs.
“Why have I never heard about her?”
Evelyn looked at Charles.
Charles’s face became unreadable.
Alexander saw it.
That tiny change.
The same one his father made during negotiations when something dangerous had entered the conversation.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Charles answered first.
“This is pointless.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Your mother has been gone nearly three decades.”
Alexander stepped toward him.
“That does not give you permission to rewrite her life.”
Charles lowered his voice.
“Some things should stay buried.”
Evelyn laughed bitterly.
“That is what you’ve always believed.”
Charles turned.
“Be careful.”
“No.”
Evelyn faced Alexander.
“Your mother did not die believing her family had abandoned her.”
Alexander’s heart began beating harder.
“She had contacted us.”
“When?”
“A few months before the accident.”
Alexander went still.
The accident.
His mother, Katherine Reed, had died when Alexander was six.
Her car had gone off a rain-slicked road in Connecticut.
The police had ruled it accidental.
“What did she want?”
Evelyn’s voice softened.
“She wanted to leave Charles.”
Alexander stared at his father.
Charles looked toward him.
“That is not the full story.”
“Then tell me the full story.”
Charles remained silent.
Alexander’s anger sharpened.
“You told me she was happy.”
“She loved you.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Charles stepped closer.
“Your mother was struggling.”
“With what?”
“With everything.”
Evelyn interrupted.
“With your control.”
Charles snapped, “Enough.”
“No,” Alexander said. “Not enough.”
At that moment, footsteps approached.
Sophie appeared cautiously with Lily beside her.
“Mr. Reed, I’m sorry. Lily left her rabbit upstairs.”
Evelyn turned.
The instant she saw Sophie, she gasped.
Sophie stopped.
The two women stared at each other.
Then Evelyn whispered, “Margaret.”
Sophie frowned.
“My grandmother?”
Evelyn crossed the room slowly.
“You’re her granddaughter.”
“Yes.”
“My goodness.”
Sophie looked uncomfortable.
“Did you know her?”
Evelyn smiled through tears.
“When I was a girl, she was practically my sister.”
Lily tugged Sophie’s hand.
“Mommy?”
Sophie bent slightly.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
Evelyn looked at the child.
“And this must be your little girl.”
Lily nodded solemnly.
“I make birds.”
“So did someone I loved very much.”
Lily smiled.
Then Evelyn noticed something around Sophie’s neck.
A thin silver chain.
At the bottom hung a tiny brass key.
Evelyn’s expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
Sophie touched it instinctively.
“My grandmother left it to my mother. My mother gave it to me before she died.”
Evelyn stared.
“Did Margaret ever tell you what it opened?”
“No.”
Evelyn looked at Alexander.
Then at Charles.
Charles’s face had gone pale.
Alexander noticed immediately.
“Father?”
Charles said nothing.
Evelyn whispered, “That key opens Katherine’s writing box.”
Alexander’s pulse kicked.
“My mother’s?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
Evelyn kept her eyes on Charles.
“That is the question.”
Alexander turned slowly toward his father.
Charles stared back.
May you like
Then he said the five words that changed everything.
“I know where it is.”
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