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 to surrender the mirror, and learned of Thaddeus Gable’s false report.
Gable’s frantic phone call provided the critical tip. “They’re filing a freeze order on my safe deposit box,” he’d gasped, his voice tight with fear. “Get there now. Box 227. Newport Federal Reserve.”
I hailed a cab, heart pounding, clutching the master key Gable had mailed in a panic. The bank lobby was quiet. I marched directly to the vault, presenting the key and my ID. The clerk, unfazed, led me to the secure room.
Just as I slid the box from its slot, a stern-faced lawyer, recognizable from Julian’s legal team, strode into the vault, phone pressed to his ear. Too late.
Inside the box, nestled amongst old ledgers, were thick envelopes of original police investigation photos from 1954. These weren’t the sanitized family archives. These were crime scene images.
One photo, in particular, made my blood run cold. It showed Genevieve’s study, disheveled, but clearly visible in the background was the antique mirror. Its original plate glass, cracked and stained, had recorded patterns. Blood patterns. They perfectly matched the distinctive Montclair signet ring, a heavy gold ring Julian’s grandfather was known to wear.
The mirror hadn’t just held Genevieve’s spirit; it had borne silent witness to her final moments. With this physical documentation secured, the missing piece of the puzzle, I knew exactly how to make Julian pay.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 13 to continue the story
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