Page 46 of Blurred Lines

"Of course, Em! I'm more than game. I'll be there in a flash," she answers, the shrilly edge to her voice telling me she's just as psyched about this as I am. I hang up, energy surging through me. We have our team assembled; now it's time to hunt. As the guys and Flora arrive, the mansion buzzes with a newfound purpose. The air thrums with anticipation, a delicious sort of chaos.

"Alright, Princess," Caeleb booms, his eyes sparkling. "Time to spill the beans. What exactly are we looking for?"

The letter. I unfold the faded paper; Dad's looping scrawl fills the page, a cryptic mix of clues and inside jokes. Flora frowns as she leans over my shoulder, her nose practically crinkling in concentration.

" Dad and his rhymes." She sounds almost offended by its childishness. "It's like he wants to trip us up on purpose."

A frustrated sigh escapes me. "Dad always loved games." The words taste bitter. "But was this just some grand joke? A way to torment us from beyond the grave?"

"Or …" Caeleb muses, his chef's mind clearly working overtime. "Maybe we're looking at this all wrong. Could be a recipe of some kind, encoded. Think about it—ingredients, measurements …"

"Don't be ridiculous," Flora huffs, but there's a spark in her eyes I haven't seen before. Annoyed determination.

"Alright, alright, everyone settle down." Silas claps his hands, instantly drawing focus. "Emily, read the letter out loud. Sometimes the answer comes when you hear it."

My voice rings out, filling the room. As I finish the last cryptic line, a heavy silence descends. Then, from the back of the room, Finn speaks, his voice low.

"The weeping willow, always standing guard …" His brow furrows. "There's an old willow down by the creek. Big one. Could've been planted when this place was built."

The grand living room envelopes us, its warmth a stark contrast to the cool rationality we try to maintain. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, bathing the opulent furnishings in a soft glow. Flora taps a perfectly manicured nail against Dad's letter, laid atop the gleaming mahogany coffee table. Caeleb paces with restless energy, the rich scent of pipe tobacco trailing after him.

"Something tells me we're missing a vital clue," he mutters under his breath. "What is this crap about finding 'truths hidden in plain sight'?"

I read the riddle again, trying to counter the torrential rise of helplessness.

Where sunlight paints the sprawling green, and moonlit nights cast shadows keen, a legacy in riddles lies, where wealth awaits the wisest eyes.

Follow where the widow weeps, its ancient roots where secrets sleep. Count the paces, straight and true, where sun and shadow rendezvous.

Beneath the earth, a treasure waits, unveiled by time, unlocked by fates. Truths hidden in plain sight, heed the words, and claim your right.

"Damn this to hell," I mutter.

Silas leans back against the velvet sofa, his focus unwavering as he takes the letter from me and scrutinizes it again. Finn, ever vigilant, rests a hand casually on the ornately carved mantel, his eyes sharp and alert. I catch an unexpected glint of humor in them; it eases the tension coiling in my gut.

The grandfather clock chimes, its rich tone a reminder of time slipping away. Frustration nibbles at the edges of my determination. Just as I open my mouth to suggest a break, perhaps a walk outside for some fresh air, a deafening crash splinters the silence.

Footsteps echo, and a flash of tailored suit draws my gaze.

Alec.

He doesn't just step into the room—he owns every inch of space he crosses. A practiced smirk stretches across his too-perfect features. "Well, well," he purrs, his eyes flicking over each of us with calculated disdain. "Company? This is far more entertaining than I anticipated." Malice drips from each word, landing on my skin like a cold splash.

"Get out," I manage, my tone sharp.

"Come on, Emily, don't be rude," he drawls, leaning against the doorframe with practiced nonchalance. "Aren't you going to at least offer me some tea? Or wine?"

"Don't test me, Alec," I say, my voice low and dangerous.

"Now, now, Emily," he purrs, his eyes flicking over the gathered group. "I see you've brought in reinforcements. You know," he continues, fixing his gaze on Silas, "we always knew there was treasure buried in these parts. Old Harvey wasn't the type to leave his riches without a good challenge."

Silas steps forward, every inch of him radiating menace. "These 'parts' belong to Emily," he growls. "And you aren't welcome."

"Such protective instincts." Alec's smile turns feral. "But you forget, I'm family. Emily's fortune is my fortune."

With a speed that takes us all by surprise, Finn lunges. Alec stumbles back with a startled cry, just managing to avoid Finn's fist by an inch. Caeleb moves as well, blocking the space between Alec and me.

"Get out," Finn repeats, fury etched on his face. "Before I really give you something to complain about."

---