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 hide the mirror, revealing the hidden 1954 codicil.
News of the discovered codicil hadn’t even reached Julian, but his retaliation began that morning. My phone buzzed with an alert from Newport Heritage Bank: my business operating account, holding my life’s savings of $42,000, was frozen.
“Insufficient funds for pending transactions,” the message read, despite the ample balance. A quick call confirmed it. “We’ve received an unusual number of inquiries regarding your business solvency, Ms. Devine. We require further verification.”
Julian wasn’t stopping there. Social media was awash with doctored audio clips, expertly edited soundbites of my frantic calls to Marcus, twisted to portray me as unhinged. Local art circles, once a source of commissions, now buzzed with whispers.
“It’s a pattern, Clara,” Marcus said, looking up from his laptop. “He’s systematically trying to isolate you.”
Just then, my phone rang. It was Aunt Evelyn. Her voice, usually carefully modulated, held a brittle edge. “Clara, darling. This is all very… regrettable. Julian and I, we’re willing to overlook these unfortunate events. Surrender the original document, and your accounts will be unfrozen. Your reputation restored.”
I gripped the phone, picturing the elegant, untouched codicil. “It’s not for sale, Aunt Evelyn.”
Her silence on the other end was a palpable sigh. She hung up without another word. They were terrified. Not of a ghost story, but of the physical proof I held.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 8 to continue the story
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