The metallic click echoed sharply in the quiet office, breaking the tense silence between the lawyer and me. Mr. Vance carefully slid back a concealed wooden panel along the sewing machine’s base, revealing a hollow space hidden inside the vintage iron frame. My heart throbbed against my ribs as I leaned forward, staring at a small brass key wrapped in faded velvet.
Vance watched me with unreadable eyes, his hand resting beside the sealed letter that bore my late wife’s distinct, elegant penmanship. “Eleanor insisted that you open this yourself, alone, in the cellar of her main estate,” he murmured, pushing the heavy key across the polished mahogany desk. “She warned that her family would come looking for the contents the moment the estate read the full will.”
A cold chill ran down my spine as I realized how little I actually knew about the woman I had shared a home with for four years. What terrifying secret had Eleanor hidden beneath the foundation of her peaceful yellow house? Go to the next part to discover the horrifying truth…
