Veronica tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, that’s… interesting.”
“So, anyone who wants to stay—stay.
But there are rules in this house. We eat breakfast and dinner together. We share updates.
We spend time as a family.”
A pause. Belinda nervously glanced at Gregory.
“I think it’s reasonable.”
“Fine. I’m in,” Gregory sighed.
“Besides, the kids have been wanting to spend time here. And maybe Mia will finally study for her exams… and Theo… Well, he’s got space to let his imagination run wild.”
I turned to my grandchildren. “Are you two staying?”
“Absolutely!” Theo grinned.
“I have so many investigations to complete.”
“Then it’s settled,” I said.
Across the table, my “girls” exchanged knowing glances. They knew.
I had to be sure that my fortune wouldn’t go to the wrong hands. Because my family had no idea that I was the biggest mystery to them all.
***
Later, Bugsy lounged in my lap, his plump body radiating warmth as I stroked his fur.
The soft sound of shuffled cards filled the air, a rhythm I found comforting.
Across from me, Dolly fanned out her cards with a dramatic flourish, while Margo sat poised, fingers lightly drumming against the table. Their curiosity pressed down on me.
“So, you’re just going to… watch them?” Margo finally broke the silence.
I smirked, flipping a card between my fingers. “For now.”
Dolly took a slow sip of her espresso.
“And what exactly are you planning to learn?”
I leaned back in my chair, letting the weight of their question settle.
“Everything they’re hiding.” I picked up my glass of pomegranate juice and took a deliberate sip, savoring the tartness.
“They all have something to lose now. And they know it.”
“Oh, Vivi, darling. You do realize this isn’t just a family drama anymore?
This is a full-fledged mystery.”
Margo tilted her head, observing me carefully. “And you’re sure you want to keep playing this game?”
I traced the rim of my glass with my fingertip before setting it down.
“Margo, dear, I am the game.”
And then, I felt it. That prickle at the back of my neck.
The unmistakable sensation of being watched.
I reached up casually, as if to adjust my earring, tilting my head just enough to catch the smallest detail—a hairline crack in the ceiling, barely noticeable, but just wide enough.
A spy hole. My fingers paused against my earlobe. Someone was in the attic.
Watching us.
I didn’t react. Didn’t glance up. Instead, I let a slow, knowing smile stretch across my lips as I slid my next card onto the table.
Let the game begin.
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