Chapter 3 - Emma’s Lantern
Emma had never been good at lying to her grandmother.
She avoided eye contact, pressed her lips together, and pulled at the sleeve of her sweater whenever she tried.
Evelyn began watching her more carefully.
The girl came home from school, completed her chores, and disappeared upstairs before dinner. She no longer practiced piano in the music room. She stopped inviting friends over and refused to explain why she had received a low score on an algebra test.
One afternoon, Evelyn found Emma asleep at the library table with her head resting on an open textbook.
Beside her hand was a note written in Michael’s handwriting.
No lights after ten. No walking in the upstairs hall. No questions about the west wing.
Evelyn read it twice.
“Emma,” she said softly.
The girl jerked awake and snatched the note.
“Dad said those are temporary rules.”
“Why?”
Emma folded the paper.
“Because of the electrical problem.”
“There is no electrical problem.”
Emma’s eyes filled with fear.
“If I break the rules, we have to leave.”
“Who told you that?”
She hesitated.
“Dad.”
Evelyn sat across from her.
“This house belongs to me. Your father cannot decide that you have to leave.”
Emma looked toward the library entrance.
“He said you don’t know everything.”
Before Evelyn could ask what that meant, Sarah entered.
She saw the note in Emma’s hand and froze.
“Your father is waiting for you upstairs,” she said.
Emma gathered her books.
“Sarah,” Evelyn said, “why is my granddaughter forbidden from using the hallway?”
Sarah’s answer came too quickly.
“Michael is trying to reduce the electric bill.”
“The hallway lamps use less electricity than the refrigerator.”
Sarah looked exhausted.
“Please ask him.”
“I’m asking you.”
Sarah lowered her voice.
“Some questions make situations worse.”
She left before Evelyn could respond.
That night, Evelyn listened at her bedroom door.
At eleven thirty, Sarah walked upstairs carrying a covered tray. She moved through the western corridor and disappeared around the corner leading to Arthur’s study.
Twenty minutes later, she returned without the tray.
The next morning, Evelyn inspected the kitchen.
A bowl of soup, two slices of bread, and one bottle of water were missing.
Someone was living in Arthur’s study.
Evelyn considered confronting Michael immediately, but something in Sarah’s warning stopped her.
Some questions make situations worse.
Instead, she searched Michael’s office while he was away.
His filing cabinet contained overdue notices, private loan agreements, and letters from three companies demanding payment. Michael had borrowed nearly two million dollars for a property development that had never been completed.
One document carried Arthur’s signature.
Evelyn recognized the handwriting, but the final letter in the surname curved incorrectly.
She had watched Arthur sign his name thousands of times.
This signature had been copied.
Beneath the loan agreement was a property transfer claiming Michael would receive ownership of the Pasadena mansion after Arthur’s death.
Evelyn’s name did not appear anywhere.
She photographed every page with her phone.
That evening, Michael entered the sitting room and found her alone.
“You went through my office,” he said.
It was not a question.
Evelyn set down her tea.
“You forged your father’s signature.”
Michael shut the door.
“You’re grieving. You’re seeing crimes where there are only business decisions.”
“I know Arthur’s handwriting.”
“You knew the man he allowed you to see.”
Evelyn stood.
“What does that mean?”
Michael smiled without warmth.
“It means Dad had secrets too.”
From somewhere above them came a muffled cough.
Michael’s eyes moved toward the ceiling.
May you like
Then he looked back at Evelyn.
“You should stay away from the west wing.”
