Chapter 3 - THE LOCKED ROOM
Russell’s private office sat behind carved walnut doors on the first floor.
Everyone in the house called it the blue room because his mother had covered the walls in pale blue silk when Russell was a child.
After she died, the room became the center of the estate.
Boxes arrived.
Files were removed.
Attorneys came and went.
Gwendolyn spent hours in there with Russell.
I avoided it.
That was deliberate.
I did not want to be accused of interfering with money I had never asked for.
Then one afternoon, Phoebe came into the kitchen carrying her stuffed lamb.
“Aunt Gwen was in Daddy’s blue room.”
I looked up.
“Was Daddy with her?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Phoebe nodded.
“She used the little card.”
The access card.
Russell kept one.
Gwendolyn supposedly did not.
“Did she see you?”
Phoebe shook her head.
“She looked mad.”
I should have told Russell immediately.
Instead, I waited until dinner.
That was my mistake.
At dinner, I said quietly:
“Phoebe saw Gwendolyn in your office today.”
Russell looked at his sister.
Gwendolyn laughed.
“I was upstairs all afternoon.”
Phoebe frowned.
“No, you weren’t.”
Gwendolyn tilted her head.
“Sweetheart, maybe you saw me earlier.”
“No. You had the silver shoes.”
Gwendolyn’s smile thinned.
Russell looked uncomfortable.
I asked:
“Do you have an access card?”
Gwendolyn placed one hand against her chest.
“Why would I?”
Russell turned to me.
“Heather.”
One word.
A warning.
I stopped.
That night, he accused me of coaching Phoebe.
“She’s five.”
“Exactly. She repeats what you tell her.”
“Russell, she saw your sister.”
“You need to stop competing with Gwendolyn.”
“I’m not competing with her.”
“Then stop using our child to make her look guilty.”
I stared at him.
Guilty of what?
At that point, I still did not know.
Two days later, Russell discovered estate documents missing from the blue room.
A folder concerning his mother’s charitable trust.
A transfer file involving the lake house.
And one original document connected to Phoebe’s education trust.
Gwendolyn reacted beautifully.
Shocked.
Hurt.
Concerned.
Then she said:
“The only strange thing I saw this week was Phoebe near the office.”
May you like
Russell looked at me.
And suddenly our daughter’s truthful statement became evidence that I had used her.
