Chapter 2 - The Secret Hidden Inside the Deed
Grant did not sleep.
At 2:17 in the morning, he was still sitting in his office with the old photograph on his desk.
He had seen the woman in it thousands of times.
Her name had been Margaret Price.
His mother’s older sister.
Grant had been told she died before he was born.
That was the official family story.
But the photograph proved something different.
Margaret was standing beside another woman.
Hannah’s mother.
Eleanor Price.
Grant recognized Eleanor immediately because Hannah had the same eyes.
The same stubborn tilt of her head.
The same expression that suggested she would argue with a brick wall if the brick wall insisted on being wrong.
Grant turned the photograph over.
Written in faded ink were five words.
For the girls, when the truth matters.
He called his attorney.
“Daniel, wake up.”
“It’s two in the morning.”
“I know.”
“Is someone dead?”
“Not yet.”
Daniel sighed.
“What happened?”
“I need every document Mercer Vale has ever held on the Juniper Street block.”
A pause.
“That could take weeks.”
“Get it by morning.”
“Grant—”
“Daniel.”
The tone ended the argument.
At 6:40, Grant entered Mercer Vale headquarters.
His chief financial officer, Rebecca Shaw, was waiting outside the boardroom.
“You were supposed to review the redevelopment projections.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“No demolition.”
She stared at him.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“Grant, the acquisition cost is already booked. Investors expect—”
“I said no demolition.”
Rebecca lowered her voice.
“Did something happen?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Grant looked at her.
“Someone lied to me.”
“That happens before breakfast.”
“Not about this.”
Across town, Hannah had spent the night going through every file in Briar House.
She found nothing.
No hidden fortune.
No mysterious investor.
Only utility bills, tax records, grant applications, maintenance invoices, and handwritten lists of families needing food.
At seven thirty, Sophie walked into the kitchen.
“You slept?”
“No.”
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Hannah poured coffee.
“Who called last night?”
“Someone.”
“That doesn't narrow it down.”
“They said I should stop asking about ownership.”
Sophie frowned.
“Could it be the developer?”
“I don't know.”
“Grant?”
“No.”
She said it too quickly.
Sophie noticed.
“You like him.”
Hannah nearly choked on her coffee.
“I dislike him.”
“That's not what I asked.”
“He is trying to knock down this building.”
“Maybe he isn't.”
“He owns the company.”
“Maybe he has a reason.”
Hannah stared at her.
“Whose side are you on?”
“Whichever side buys breakfast.”
At nine, Grant arrived at Briar House again.
This time Hannah did not offer him coffee.
“You lied to me.”
Grant accepted the accusation without flinching.
“I didn’t tell you everything.”
“That is lying.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I should have.”
“Why did you come here?”
“To inspect the building.”
“Try again.”
Grant looked through the doorway.
“Because I wanted to see what was actually here.”
Hannah folded her arms.
“And?”
“And it changed my mind.”
She frowned.
“About demolition?”
“Yes.”
She didn't smile.
“Why?”
“I’m not ready to tell you.”
“That is convenient.”
“I know.”
“So you expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
That answer stopped her.
Grant stepped closer.
“I expect you to distrust me until I earn the right to be trusted.”
Before Hannah could answer, Evelyn appeared.
“Good. He has survival instincts.”
Grant glanced at her.
“You're Evelyn.”
“That's what my enemies call me.”
“You don't have enemies.”
“Oh, honey. Everyone has enemies. Some of us just collect them deliberately.”
Hannah groaned.
“Please don't encourage him.”
Evelyn looked between them.
“I'm not encouraging anything.”
She smiled.
“Yet.”
Grant looked away.
Hannah noticed.
For the first time, she wondered whether the rumor about him being ruthless had missed something.
Over the next two days, Grant began uncovering a pattern.
The first deed had transferred the building from Eleanor Price to Briar Community Foundation.
The transfer had been recorded as a charitable donation.
Except the foundation had never legally existed.
Daniel found the original filing.
A signature had been forged.
The forged signature belonged to Eleanor Price.
The person who filed the false foundation paperwork?
Thomas Mercer.
Grant’s father.
Grant stared at the document.
“No.”
Daniel swallowed.
“I checked the handwriting.”
“You’re telling me my father stole this property?”
“I’m telling you the document appears to show that.”
Grant opened another file.
Then another.
Every path led backward to 1994.
That was the year Eleanor Price disappeared from Pittsburgh.
That was also the year Grant’s mother married his father.
The coincidence was impossible.
Grant drove to his childhood home.
His father had been dead three years, but his mother, Victoria Mercer, still lived there.
She opened the door.
Her expression changed the moment she saw him.
“You look like Thomas when you're angry.”
“Did you know my father stole a building from the Price family?”
Silence.
Victoria gripped the doorframe.
“Who told you?”
“That isn't an answer.”
“You should leave.”
“No.”
“Grant.”
“You knew.”
Victoria looked away.
“I knew there was a dispute.”
“Did you know Margaret Price was alive?”
Her face drained.
Grant took the photograph from his pocket.
“Did you know?”
Victoria began to cry.
And Grant realized the story was worse than he had imagined.
Meanwhile, Hannah received an unexpected visitor.
A woman in a navy coat entered Briar House holding a legal folder.
“Are you Hannah Price?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Nora Bell. I represent the original Price family estate.”
Hannah’s stomach dropped.
“Why?”
Nora placed the folder on the table.
“Because your aunt left instructions that I deliver this only when Mercer Vale attempts to develop the Juniper Street property.”
Hannah stared at her.
“My aunt?”
“Margaret Price.”
Hannah couldn’t breathe.
“My aunt died.”
Nora shook her head.
“No.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“She’s alive.”
Hannah's chair scraped against the floor.
“That’s impossible.”
“I wish it were.”
“Where is she?”
Nora looked at her carefully.
“In Pennsylvania.”
“Why hasn’t she contacted us?”
“Because she was threatened.”
“By whom?”
Nora’s expression hardened.
“Your father.”
Hannah stepped backward.
“My father died twelve years ago.”
“Exactly.”
Sophie had entered silently and heard the last sentence.
She looked from Nora to Hannah.
“What happened?”
Nora closed the folder.
“Your family owns Briar House.”
Hannah shook her head.
“No. The foundation does.”
“It never legally did.”
“Then who does?”
Nora met her eyes.
“You.”
That night, Hannah sat alone in the Briar House office reading the papers.
The original deed had never been transferred.
The property still belonged to the Price family.
And suddenly everything Grant had told her made horrifying sense.
Mercer Vale wasn’t just trying to buy Briar House.
They were trying to develop a property they may never have legally owned.
At eleven forty-five, Grant knocked on the door.
Hannah opened it.
“I know,” he said.
“Know what?”
“That my father stole it.”
Her anger faltered.
“How?”
“Forgery. Fraud. Threats.”
She stared at him.
“Why would you help me?”
“Because I’m beginning to think my family built its fortune on your family’s loss.”
Hannah's eyes filled.
“You don't understand.”
“I want to.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she opened the door wider.
“Come in.”
For the first time, Grant stepped into Briar House without a business folder.
Only questions.
May you like
Only regret.
And a secret neither of them knew how to survive yet.
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