I searched our attic for the sugar jar.
It had been replaced years earlier, but my mother remembered keeping the original in a box of household belongings.
We found it beneath a pile of old Christmas decorations.
The jar was chipped along the rim.
I turned it upside down, expecting nothing.
A small brass key fell onto the attic floor.
My mother covered her mouth.
"That's it."
The key was tarnished, with the number seventeen stamped near its handle.
I took it to Daniel.
He compared it with the old survey map and suggested it might fit a storage cabinet or service locker on the Ashford property.
We couldn't know without examining the site.
Then Daniel discovered a reference to an old maintenance building numbered seventeen on a map from the year my father disappeared.
The building had been demolished, but its foundation remained near the greenhouse.
That afternoon, Victoria's lawyer sent us a letter demanding that we stop contacting the estate's employees.
Daniel responded formally, explaining that we were seeking information relevant to a property dispute and that we would follow all legal requirements.
He also warned me not to enter the grounds without permission.
I understood.
I wasn't going to risk our case by doing something reckless.
But I could no longer ignore the feeling that my father had left us a trail.
That night, my mother sat beside me at the kitchen table.
She held the brass key in her palm.
"Thomas told me he was trying to protect us," she said. "I thought he meant from the Ashfords."
"What do you think he meant now?"
She looked at the key.
"I think he knew someone would come looking for this house."
A chill ran down my spine.
Victoria hadn't arrived by accident.
She had come because something was changing.
And she seemed determined to act before we discovered why.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Woman Who Had Worked for the Ashfords
The Day a Millionaire Walked Into Our House
Part 6 of 20
