Chapter 162
The floor was structurally impossible, and the left side was taken up by a window.
Vanessa calmly turned to face the wall on the right.
Mounted there were a stuffed stag’s head, various medals, portraits, and a large tapestry. It was altogether, a setting that seemed perfectly suited to conceal something suspicious and old.
Without hesitation, she lifted the massive, timeworn tapestry depicting a goddess seated by a lakeside.
“….”
Her first guess collapsed beautifully—along with a cloud of dust. Coughing, Vanessa hurriedly put the tapestry back in place.
‘Somewhere that can be opened easily—without a ladder or stepping stool.’
No matter how large the study was, there were only so many places a safe could be hidden.
‘In novels, there’s always some kind of mechanism behind a bookshelf…’
She knelt down and examined the carpet in front of the shelves, looking for signs of repeated scraping. A moment later, she rose again in disappointment.
‘Clean. Not a single mark.’
Vanessa bit her lip, growing anxious. She checked behind the portraits, even inside the fireplace—but found nothing. If only she didn’t have to return everything perfectly to its original state, she could have experimented more freely…
Her gaze drifted back to the bookshelves.
What if it isn’t a safe after all? At the tail end of that uncertain thought, something suddenly clicked.
Vanessa hurried back to the shelves. She carefully inspected each one within arm’s reach. And then, at last.
‘There it is. The dust has been wiped away recently.’
Without hesitation, she pulled out every book on the shelf. Something behind them caught her eye.
It faintly reflected light, like a metal plate engraved with an image. She traced the thin copper engraving and slid it out from its loose slot.
And behind it, a safe revealed itself.
‘There really is one!’
She ran her hand carefully over its surface.
There was no doubt. A household iron dial safe made by Nocturne. So common that it often appeared in detective novels—Miss Welsh herself had used one before.
This particular model looked at least fifteen years old. Back then, Nocturne safes had distinctive gold detailing on the handle and this one bore that exact mark. Which meant—
‘Father must have been the one who installed it.’
Nocturne safes had one defining trait: A three-digit dial, with a fixed combination that could not be changed once set.
Vanessa pressed her lips together anxiously. A password. If her father had prepared so thoroughly for her future, then surely he had left behind something she could decipher.
‘The problem is… Uncle likely figured it out too.’
She stared blankly at the copper plate in her hand.
Death. A bleeding lion. A reaper waiting beside it for the soul to depart. Papyrus crushed beneath the lion’s massive paw… like a will.
‘The will!’
The realization struck so suddenly she nearly cried out. She had practically memorized the will, so why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?
Quickly, she pulled out the copied version she had hidden in her clothes. The first line on the page about the company inheritance always began the same way:
R, V, ll, lX, CLXXXXll
If R meant ‘right’, then the numbers were clear.
5, 2, 9, 192.
Turn right five times to 1.
Left two times to 9.
Right nine times to 2.
Vanessa turned the dial with trembling hands. When she aligned the final number, clunk. The sound of metal shifting echoed as the safe door opened.
Her pale lips trembled. Wyatt would never imagine how far she had come. Or how much further she would go.
‘I have to hurry.’
Inside, several stacks of documents were neatly arranged. Unlike the disorder outside, the contents here were meticulously maintained. A bundle of mortgage papers. Land deeds. Contracts that looked… illegal. And finally…
The original will.
It lay at the very bottom of the stack. Vanessa quickly swapped it with her copy, hands shaking. Then she hurriedly restored everything inside to its original order. She was just about to close the safe..
[Theodore Liam Battenberg.]
A name, scrawled across a document caught her eye.
