Chapter 20: They Came for Lighthouse Hill

I didn't sleep that night.

By sunrise, I had copied every document from the Mercer file onto three separate drives and sent one encrypted copy to my attorney.

I wasn't going to let anyone make those papers disappear.

At eight in the morning, my attorney called.

“Mara, we have a problem.”

I sat up straight.

“What happened?”

“Someone filed an emergency petition concerning Lighthouse Hill.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“Who?”

He paused.

“The Mercer Family Foundation.”

Of course.

They hadn't wasted a single day.

“What's their claim?”

“They say your mother intended the property to become part of a family charitable trust and that you are violating the spirit of her estate by refusing to cooperate.”

I almost laughed.

“My mother hated their foundation.”

“I know. But they have documents.”

That sentence silenced me.

Documents.

The weapon the Mercers had always used.

I opened my laptop and pulled up the copy of my mother's will.

“Then we'll use mine.”

My attorney's voice softened.

“There's more.”

“What?”

“Grant filed a separate statement claiming you were emotionally unstable following the canceled wedding.”

My jaw dropped.

“He did what?”

“He says you're acting irrationally and that your decisions regarding Lighthouse Hill may be influenced by emotional distress.”

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

Then I remembered the room tag.

The humiliation.

The quilt.

The canceled wedding.

They had spent years teaching me to doubt myself.

Now they wanted to use that doubt against me legally.

“Send me everything,” I said.

“Already on its way.”

I ended the call.

Ten minutes later, someone knocked on my hotel door.

I froze.

I hadn't told anyone where I was staying.

The knock came again.

“Ms. Bennett?”

I looked through the peephole.

Eleanor Vale stood in the hallway.

I opened the door but kept the security chain fastened.

“How did you find me?”

She smiled faintly.

“Your mother taught me how to find people who don't want to be found.”

I finally opened the door.

Eleanor stepped inside and placed a thick envelope on the table.

“This is what the Mercers don't know I kept.”

I opened it.

Inside were letters written by my mother.

Every one was addressed to Eleanor.

The first began with a sentence that made my heart stop.

“If Grant ever tries to marry Mara, please make sure she knows what his family did to me.”

I looked up.

Eleanor's eyes were wet.

“Your mother knew they would come for Lighthouse Hill eventually.”

I read the next letter.

It described meetings with Grant's father years before I had ever met Grant.

They had tried to purchase the property from my mother.

She refused.

Then they offered a partnership.

She refused again.

Finally, they asked her to leave the property to the Mercer Foundation in her will.

She wrote one sentence beneath that request.

“They don't want to preserve my home. They want to own the only thing they couldn't buy.”

I lowered the letter.

For years, I'd thought Lighthouse Hill was simply my inheritance.

Now I understood why my mother had fought so hard to protect it.

Eleanor reached into the envelope and pulled out a small brass key.

“There's a locked room beneath the house.”

I stared at her.

“My mother never told me.”

“She wanted you to find it yourself when you were ready.”

“What's inside?”

Eleanor looked directly at me.

“The original records.”

My heartbeat quickened.

“Records of what?”

She answered quietly.

“Everything the Mercers did to your mother.”

My phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a message from Grant.

“Mara, stop fighting me. Come home and we can fix this.”

I looked at the brass key in my palm.

Then I looked at his message.

For twelve years, Grant had told me that home was wherever he was.

He had been wrong.

Home was the place my mother had fought to keep mine.

And now I was going back to protect it.