Margaret finally spoke. “Sir… it belonged to your Aunt Eleanor.”
Ethan froze. Eleanor Caldwell—his father’s sister. Brilliant, solitary. She had vanished decades ago, presumed drowned in the estate’s lake. Her body was never found.
“I was her personal maid,” Margaret whispered. “That locket was always with her. She said it protected something important.”
Claire exploded. “This is insane! She died years ago!”
“Enough,” Ethan snapped. “Why did you have that locket?”
Margaret swallowed hard. “I saw Miss Claire last night… tampering with the painting. And when you fell, the locket slipped from her pocket.”
Claire lunged at her, screaming. Ethan grabbed Claire’s arms, shaking.
The painting frame caught his eye—slightly misaligned. He pushed it upward. A click echoed. The portrait slid aside, revealing a hidden compartment.
Inside lay a sealed leather envelope, stamped with the Caldwell crest.
“For Ethan Caldwell,” it read. “To be opened only if I disappear. —Eleanor Caldwell.”
Margaret nodded through tears. “She made me help hide it.”
