I bought an antique mirror at a Newport flea market, but my reflection stopped moving and wrote "Save me" in blood—uncovering my cousin's $18M old-money crime.
👉 Previous Decision: You chose Option B – Confront Thaddeus Gable directly at his private estate office with the evidence.
The fluorescent lights of Thaddeus Gable’s dusty estate office hummed, illuminating decades of meticulously organized files. He looked up, his face sagging, as Marcus and I entered.
I laid the original 1954 codicil on his desk, its yellowed edges a stark contrast to the modern veneer. Next to it, the DNA matching reports, irrefutable proof of Genevieve Montclair’s connection to the mirror.
Gable’s hand, spotted with age, trembled as he reached for his glasses. He read the documents, his face draining of color. “Federal prison time,” he croaked, his voice raspy. “At seventy-eight.”
He crumpled back into his chair. “Julian’s grandfather… he paid my father a hundred thousand dollars in 1954. To conceal it. To hide the murder.” The words spilled out, years of guilt and silence finally breaking.
“Genevieve… she was a threat. She found out about a bad investment, a land deal. She was going to expose them, change her will to a public trust. They couldn’t let that happen.”
Gable then dropped another bombshell. “I kept copies. Duplicates of everything. The real probate papers, my father’s original ledger of payments. All in a safe deposit box. Newport Federal Reserve. Box 227.”
Just then, the distinctive rumble of a luxury car pulled up outside. Julian. Marcus, quick-thinking, discreetly triggered a silent security alarm on his phone. We had moments.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 12 to continue the story
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