Chapter 4 - THE BLUE ROOM
Vanessa escorted us out of the old wing herself. She did not call
security, but the message was clear: she wanted us away from the
painting before we could ask another question.
In the car, Lily was quiet. Noah kept turning the music box over in his
hands.
“She knew about the key,” he said.
“She may know about the message too,” I replied.
That evening, I called my attorney, Rachel. She advised me not to
investigate the estate without written permission. The painting belonged
to the company, and any attempt to open a concealed compartment could
expose me to accusations of damaging property.
I agreed. Then I examined the photographs I had taken during the
assessment. The brass fitting was not a keyhole in the ordinary sense.
It was a rotating catch, almost invisible beneath the frame. A small key
would turn it, but the wood around it showed tiny marks consistent with
repeated opening and closing.
The next day, the museum curator called. The commission had been
suspended. Whitmore Holdings had instructed the estate staff to remove
the painting from the restoration schedule.
Two hours later, Daniel called.
“Claire, what did you find in the Blue Room?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Vanessa says you were trying to open a family painting.”
“I was assessing it. Your fiancée told me not to touch the frame.”
“She says you brought the children there to search for something.”
“I brought them because school was closed. They noticed the keyhole.”
Daniel went silent.
“Did you know it was there?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did you know the painting had a hidden compartment?”
“No, Claire. I swear.”
He asked to meet. I agreed to a neutral café, with Rachel present.
Daniel arrived alone and looked exhausted.
“Vanessa has been pushing for the painting to be moved to headquarters,”
he said. “My mother had it locked away for years. I never knew why.”
“Who has the key?”
“My mother used to keep it. After she died, Vanessa took over the estate
inventory.”
I showed him the photograph of the brass fitting. Daniel stared at it.
“I’ve seen that symbol,” he said. “In my father’s old office. There was
a metal box with the same three stars.”
“Do you still have it?”
“I don’t know. Vanessa handled the office clearance.”
Daniel explained that the Whitmore family voting shares were held in a
private trust created by the company’s founder. The trust had strict
succession provisions. Margaret had always claimed that the controlling
shares would pass through Daniel.
But an old clause allowed a different line of succession if the current
heir had biological children born during a valid marriage.
Our twins had been conceived during our marriage.
“If the old trust documents recognize them,” Daniel said, “Lily and Noah
may have rights neither Vanessa nor I can change.”
I looked at him. “You wanted to know about the children only when the
paternity report arrived.”
He lowered his eyes. “I deserved that.”
“You don’t get to become curious now and expect me to trust you.”
“I know. But this may involve the children and the trust.”
I thought of the forged medical records and the settlement prepared
before Vanessa’s pregnancy announcement. The Whitmores had not only
May you like
tried to replace me. They may have been trying to erase my children
before they were born.
