Arthur's Visit

He was wearing the blue polo shirt. The one she bought him for Father's Day.

Lucas was still scrolling, his thumb jerking on the keypad. "This can't be real," he muttered. "This has to be a spoof. Some kind of phishing scam targeting Dad's contacts."

"Don't," Sylvia said, taking the phone from him. She closed it gently. "We need to put this back."

"Back?" Lucas stared at her. "Mom, we need to call the police. Or a private investigator. We need to trace this number."

"Not yet." She walked to the guest room and knelt by the bed, sliding the Motorola back into its hiding spot. She arranged the dust ruffle carefully. "If Arthur Sterling is involved—and he called that number—then we can't trust anyone."

"Arthur?" Lucas followed her. "What does Arthur have to do with this?"

Before she could answer, the doorbell rang.

It wasn't a tentative ring. It was a firm, authoritative press.

Sylvia and Lucas froze.

"That's him," Sylvia whispered. "Arthur."

"I'll handle him," Lucas said, squaring his shoulders. He looked like Robert then, all confident angles and privileged assurance. "I'll tell him to get lost."

"No." Sylvia grabbed his arm again. "You don't know what we're dealing with, Lucas. This isn't a zoning dispute. There is a room in our wall that shouldn't exist. There are clothes for a child that isn't you or Chloe. Arthur knows about it. If you confront him now, you tip our hand."

The doorbell rang again. Twice.

"Then what do we do?" Lucas hissed.

"We act normal," Sylvia said, smoothing her hair. "We act like the grieving family he expects us to be."

She walked to the front door, Lucas trailing a step behind. She checked the peephole. Arthur stood on the porch, clutching a leather briefcase. He looked composed now, the panic she'd seen from the window completely erased.

She opened the door.

"Sylvia," Arthur said, his voice a warm baritone of professional sympathy. "And Lucas. Good, you're both here."

"Arthur," Sylvia said, stepping back to let him in. "To what do we owe the pleasure? I thought you were filing the injunctions."

"I was," Arthur said, stepping into the foyer. He didn't look at her; his eyes swept the hallway, lingering for a fraction of a second on the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. "But I realized there was some... urgent paperwork regarding the estate trust. Robert gave me specific instructions to review it with you immediately if his health ever compromised his ability to sign."

He walked into the living room without waiting to be invited, placing his briefcase on the coffee table.

"What kind of paperwork?" Lucas asked, staying by the door.

"Asset protection," Arthur said, snapping the latches open. "Given Robert's condition, we need to secure the physical assets. The deeds. The bonds." He pulled out a thick file. "And the archive."

Sylvia felt the blood drain from her face. "The archive?"

Arthur looked up, his eyes locking onto hers. They were cold, flat, and entirely unsmiling.

"Robert kept a personal archive," Arthur said slowly. " sentimental items. Old files. He kept it secure. He told me that if anything happened, I was to retrieve it for safekeeping. To protect the family privacy."

"We haven't found any archive," Lucas said.

Arthur smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Really? I thought perhaps during the renovation... walls get opened up. things get found."

He stood up, leaving the papers on the table.

"Do you mind if I check the master bedroom?" Arthur asked. "Robert mentioned he kept a safe up there. I need to verify the seal is intact."

He moved toward the stairs.

"You can't go up there," Sylvia said.

Arthur stopped, one hand on the banister. "Why not, Sylvia? Is there something you don't want me to see?"

"It's a construction zone," Lucas said, stepping between Arthur and the stairs. "Liability. You know how it is."

Arthur looked at Lucas, then back at Sylvia. The veneer of politeness was thinning, revealing the threat underneath.

"I need to secure the assets, Sylvia," he said softly. "For your own good."

Arthur's eyes darted to the master bedroom door. 'We need to secure the assets, Sylvia.'