As Arthur turned the page, the thick paper of the ledger’s spine split slightly. A small, flat object glinted in the gap of the binding.
I reached out and pulled it free. It was a vintage brass key, intricately cut, with a small circular head.
“What does this open?” I asked, holding it up.
“I do not know,” Arthur said, squinting at the key. “Julian kept his ledger close, but he never mentioned a key in the binding.”
I slipped the brass key into the pocket of my yellow sweater, my fingers brushing against the cold metal.
“Caleb does not want reconciliation, Nora, he wants the land,” Arthur said. “He has already partnered with a major investment firm.”
“But Julian married me,” I said, the words tasting strange on my tongue. “Why would he do that if he had a son?”
“To keep the property out of Caleb’s hands,” Arthur said. “Under Illinois law, a spouse has immediate rights that supersede an estranged child’s claim in a contested estate.”
“But I did not know him,” I whispered. “It was only seven days.”
