Thomas Grant’s Last Week
Chapter 04 - Thomas Grant’s Last Week
Three years earlier, Thomas Grant had come home late for seven nights in a row. He had been distracted, checking the window before turning on the lights and lowering his voice whenever Lily entered the room.
Evelyn had believed the pressure came from the Harrington Foundation’s annual audit. Thomas had always taken his work seriously. He said charity money was sacred because every missing dollar had been promised to someone who needed it.
On the final night of his life, he placed a small brass key in Evelyn’s hand.
“If anything happens to me, keep this,” he said.
She had laughed nervously. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
Thomas did not laugh.
The next morning, police said his car had left the road during heavy rain. The investigation concluded that he had fallen asleep at the wheel. Evelyn accepted the explanation because grief left no strength for questions.
Now, standing in the staff corridor of Harrington Hall, she remembered the key.
“I still have something Thomas gave me,” she said.
Julian’s eyes snapped toward her.
Celeste noticed. “What did he give you?”
“That is none of your business.”
Arthur ordered Daniel to escort Evelyn and Lily to a private sitting room. “You are not a suspect,” he told her. “You are under my protection.”
Evelyn’s laugh was quiet and bitter. “Protection would have been useful before your wife hit me.”
Arthur lowered his head. “You are right.”
In the ballroom, rumors spread faster than facts. Guests whispered that Julian had stolen the necklace to pay gambling debts. Others claimed he planned to sell it abroad. Celeste demanded the orchestra resume, as if music could restore the family’s dignity.
Arthur refused.
“The gala is over,” he announced. “Everyone will remain available until the police arrive.”
Julian moved toward a side door.
Daniel blocked him. “The main doors are the only permitted exit.”
“You work for my family.”
“I work for Mr. Harrington.”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “That will change.”
In the sitting room, Evelyn opened the lining of her old purse and removed the brass key she had carried for three years.
Lily touched it. “Was that Daddy’s?”
“Yes.”
“What does it open?”
May you like
Evelyn looked through the glass doors toward the gallery where her husband had once worked late into the night.
“I think we’re about to find out.”
