Chapter 8 - THE GALLERY OF TRUTHS
I ran upstairs without stopping to think. Lily was safe—Clara would keep her locked away, guarded, out of sight. But the gallery… if they had already found the recordings Grace had hidden, then everything she sacrificed to protect would be lost.
I burst into the hallway and saw the gallery doors standing open. Inside, the room was dim, lit only by two lanterns placed on the central table. Julian Thorne stood waiting, dressed in a dark coat, hands clasped behind his back. Beside him stood Evelyn—pale, composed, wearing the same suit she had worn the day she was arrested.
I stepped inside. "Where are they?"
Julian smiled, thin and cold. "Good evening, Adrian. You’ve become quite the detective lately. Almost as clever as your wife."
"Where are the recordings?" I demanded, stepping closer.
Evelyn spoke. "Safe. Where neither you nor the police will ever find them. Grace thought she was so brilliant—hiding evidence in plain sight. She never understood that this house belongs to us. Every inch of it."
"She understood exactly what you were," I said. "That’s why she recorded you. That’s why she hid the truth. She knew you would kill to keep your secrets."
Julian sighed. "Such dramatic language. We did what was necessary to preserve order. Arthur was weak. Grace was dangerous. Lily is just a child. Someone had to protect this family’s future."
"You murdered them," I said. "You poisoned Arthur. You poisoned Grace. You forged their signatures. You stole their fortune. And you would have killed Lily too, if Grace hadn't been smarter than all of you combined."
Julian’s expression hardened. "Grace confused cleverness with wisdom Julian’s expression hardened. "Grace confused cleverness with wisdom. She built a trap and then walked right into it. If she had stayed quiet, she might still be alive today."
"She stayed quiet long enough," I said, my voice steady but burning with quiet rage. "She stayed quiet until she realized none of you would ever stop. Until she understood that even her daughter wouldn't be safe."
Evelyn stepped forward, her chin lifted, diamonds catching the faint light. "We did not want to hurt her. She left us no choice. Arthur was going to rewrite everything—give it all away to strangers, to Grace’s charities, to people who would have torn this family apart. We protected what was ours."
"It was never yours," I told her. "It was Arthur’s. Then it was Grace’s. And now it belongs to Lily. None of you ever had the right to take a single coin from it."
"Legally," Julian said smoothly, "we have every right. The documents were signed. Arthur’s signature was witnessed. Grace’s will was contested and declared invalid—until you produced that USB drive which, conveniently, appeared only yesterday."
"Grace hid it where only someone who loved Lily would ever find it," I said. "You tore apart a child’s most precious possession in your greed, Evelyn. And in doing so, you exposed every lie you ever told."
Evelyn flinched as if struck. Julian stepped between us. "Enough words. We know about the paintings. We know Grace installed recording devices inside the frames. We came here to collect them before the police could contaminate the evidence."
"They aren't here," a voice said softly from the doorway.
We all turned. Helena stood there, lantern in hand, her face half in shadow. She walked slowly into the room, her eyes never leaving Julian’s face.
"They aren't in the frames," Helena repeated. "Grace was too careful. She knew we would look there eventually. She wanted us to think she hid them in plain sight. But she was smarter than that."
Julian stared at her. "Then where are they?"
Helena looked at me. A long, knowing look. "Tell him, Adrian. Tell him what Grace really meant. She said the truth was hanging on the walls—but she never said the recordings were inside the wood. She said the portraits hold the clue. Look at the paintings. Look at what Grace painted, over and over again, in every corner, in every background."
My mind flew back to the summerhouse. To Grace’s sketchbooks. To the way she always included the same small, distinct shape in every landscape she touched—a stone well, deep in the woods, marked on no map but hers.
"The springhouse," I breathed. "Where she used to take Lily to pick wildflowers. The one near the old oak grove."
Helena nodded slowly. "That is where she kept the master copies. Safe, dry, and hidden beneath stone and earth. She told me once—she said if she ever died unexpectedly, everything she had would be waiting there. For Lily."
Julian’s face darkened. "Why are you telling us this, Helena? You are part of this. You have always been part of this."
"I am tired," Helena said quietly. "Tired of the lies. Tired of the blood. Evelyn—you took too many risks. Julian—you manipulated everyone until you lost sight of why we began. And Elias… Elias went too far. He enjoyed it too much." She turned fully toward Evelyn. "Arthur knew. He told me, days before he died. He said if anything happened to him or to Grace, he had already sent a letter to Marcus naming every one of us. That letter arrived yesterday."
Evelyn swayed. "What?"
"Marcus has it," Helena said. "He has Arthur’s confession, written in his own hand. He has the dates, the names, the payments. He has everything. We are already finished. The only question left is—how many of us choose to fall alone, and how many choose to tell the truth before it is too late."
Julian laughed—a sharp, bitter sound. "You think they will show mercy? You think Adrian will forgive us because you change sides now?"
"I do not expect forgiveness," Helena said. "I expect justice. And I will not spend the rest of my life running, wondering when Elias will come back to finish what we started." She looked at me. "Elias is not in Switzerland. He never left the country. He has been watching. Waiting for Evelyn to be convicted, for Julian to be exposed—so he can step forward, take the evidence, and disappear with every penny. He planned for all of us to take the blame while he walked away free."
Silence filled the gallery. Even Julian looked stunned.
"He used us," Helena said. "From the very beginning. He convinced Evelyn Arthur was dying naturally. He convinced Julian the wills were legal. He convinced me Grace was dangerous. And all along—he was the one pulling every string."
Evelyn sank into a chair, her face buried in her hands. "I trusted him," she whispered. "I trusted him with everything."
"And he betrayed you," Helena said. "Just as he betrayed all of us."
I stepped forward, gripping the edge of the table to steady myself. "Where is he now, Helena?"
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Helena looked up at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "He is at the springhouse. Tonight. Looking for the recordings. If he finds them… he will destroy everything. And then he will come for Lily."
I turned and ran.
