Sarah: What do you mean? What else was Clara hiding from us?
Ethan: When I went to the probate court this morning, the clerk handed me a sealed envelope Arthur deposited in the courthouse safe five years ago.
Sarah: A sealed envelope? My father never mentioned keeping documents at the courthouse.
Ethan: He kept it there because he knew Clara was monitoring his email and intercepting his mail at home. Come inside, Sarah. You need to see this for yourself.
They walked back into the bright grand hall. Lily sat on the plush velvet sofa in the living room, quietly coloring in her book while Ethan led Sarah upstairs to Arthur's former private study. The heavy oak door was fitted with a keypad lock that Clara had changed months ago.
Sarah: We don't have the code, Ethan. Clara never let anyone in here after Dad passed away.
Ethan: The code was in the sealed court envelope. Try 0-8-1-2.
Sarah: That's my birthday... August 12th.
Sarah typed the numbers into the electronic lock. The mechanism clicked open, and the heavy door swung slowly inward. The room smelled of old paper, leather books, and the faint scent of her father's favorite pipe tobacco. Everything was left exactly as Arthur had maintained it—desk neatly organized, family photos framed on the wall, and high glass bookcases lining the far side of the room.
Sarah: He kept our picture right on his desk... Clara lied to me. She told me he removed all my photos before he died.
Ethan: She hid them in the drawer to make you feel like he gave up on you. Look under the floor desk safe, Sarah.
Sarah walked over to the heavy mahogany desk and pulled back the Persian rug beneath it. A small steel floor safe was set directly into the hardwood flooring. Ethan reached down and used a small brass key from the envelope to turn the lock.
Sarah: What is inside there?
Ethan: Pull out the leather portfolio.
Sarah reached down and pulled out a worn dark brown binder. Inside were dozens of hand-written letters, official stock certificates, and an unlisted bank ledger from a trust company based in Chicago. Attached to the top page was a small note written in her father's distinct, sharp handwriting.
Sarah: "To my daughter Sarah... If you are reading this, it means Clara has made her move to claim my estate."
Ethan: Read the rest of it out loud, honey.
Sarah: "I discovered Clara's true identity two years after our wedding. She was not a wealth manager from New York. Her real name is Clara Higgins, and she served three years in Illinois for probate fraud..."
Sarah gasped, dropping the letter onto the desk. Her hands began to shake as she looked at the official mugshot attached to the back of the ledger.
Sarah: My father knew the entire time? Why didn't he divorce her right away? Why did he let her stay in this house with us?
Ethan: Look at the second page, Sarah. He couldn't divorce her without exposing the company to a massive corporate takeover she had planned with her real co-conspirators.
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