Chapter 2
I turned to Margaret. "On the fifth of last month, you took James and asked Grandpa for a loan of 150 thousand dollars to open a new branch."
Margaret opened her mouth but couldn't get a word out.
"I was there for every single penny you guys asked for," I said, my voice flat. "Because I'm always here on Saturdays."
The living room went dead silent.
The wall clock ticked away, the sound echoing in the silence.
Uncle Thomas suddenly let out a weird, sarcastic laugh.
"So, according to Lawyer Morrell," he drawled, "why not try Clara? She's practically invisible in this family."
He said it with a sneer, like he was making fun of me.
Margaret jumped in right away. "Go ahead and try. It's impossible anyway. There's no way Edwin would leave the family fortune to an outsider."
I didn't move.
"Miss Clara," Lawyer Morrell looked at me. "Please."
I walked over to the safe.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on me—some just waiting for the show, some full of disdain, and others eager to see me embarrass myself.
Aunt Catherine was smirking, Uncle Robert lit a cigarette, and Aunt Eleanor kept her head down, fiddling with her phone.
I reached out and carefully entered the numbers, one digit at a time.
9…
8…
0…
3…
1…
2…
Beep!
The green light came on.
The safe door popped open a crack.
The whole living room went completely still, like someone had hit pause.
The wall clock kept ticking, but not a single person made a sound.
Margaret's smile froze on her face. Uncle George's hand, holding his cup, stopped mid-air. Uncle Thomas froze with the cigarette between his lips, a bit of ash dropping off.
"No way!" Margaret was the first to jump up. "Lawyer Morrell, this can't be right! Edwin would never—"
"The will is valid," Lawyer Morrell cut her off. "The password is correct. Ms Clara has the right to open the safe and handle its contents."
Uncle George shot to his feet. The cup on the coffee table wobbled, spilling water across the surface.
"Wait a minute, Lawyer Morrell, is there some kind of mistake? Our Dad would never—"
Lawyer Morrell pulled out another sheet from his folder, his voice steady and unhurried.
"Article 13 of the will adds: Everything in the safe—including documents, cash, and securities—belongs to whoever has the password. The other heirs have no say in it."
"Mr. Hartwell signed this himself three years ago, with two lawyers as witnesses. It's fully valid under the law," Lawyer Morrell added.
Uncle George's face went from pale to livid.
Uncle Robert stood up, his tone somewhat polite. "Lawyer Morrell, can we see what's inside?"
He gave Uncle George a complicated look.
"Of course," Lawyer Morrell turned to me, "Ms Clara, it's your call."
I reached out and pulled the safe door open.
There were no gold bars, no property deeds, and definitely no stacks of cash.
There were only three things inside.
A letter in a manila envelope, its edges yellowed with age.
A black USB drive, about the size of a thumb.
A ledger with a dark blue leather cover, looking a bit worn.
Uncle George stared at the three items, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He craned his neck, leaning in for a closer look.
"That's it?" Margaret shrieked. "Just some old envelope and a USB drive? Edwin guarded this so closely? I thought it'd be something precious."
Someone snickered.
I picked up the letter first.
On the envelope, Grandpa had written, "To Clara," in his handwriting.
Uncle George stared at my hand, his Adam's apple bobbing.
I opened the envelope and pulled out the papers—three pages in total, written in a fountain pen. Each stroke was slow and careful; one could see where he'd paused between each stroke, like he needed to catch his breath after every one.
The first page began:
"Clara, by the time you read this, I'll be gone."
I paused for a moment, then kept reading.
Lawyer Morrell stood to the side, his tone all business. "Ms Clara, you have the right to read it aloud or in private."
"I'll read it aloud," I said.
Margaret burst out, "This is a Hartwell family matter, Lawyer Morrell, you—"
"Article 14 of the will," Lawyer Morrell cut her off, "gives Ms Clara full authority over the contents of the safe, including the right to disclose, keep confidential, or destroy them."
I held up the letter, my voice even as I read each word out, one by one.
"Clara, by the time you read this, I'll be gone. I remember every Saturday you spent with me all these years. You read the newspaper to me, kept me company playing chess, and you never once asked me for money. You're the only one in this whole family who never asked me for money." I continued the letter.
Then I paused.
The living room was so quiet you could hear the ticking of the wall clock.