I held the phone tightly.
Helen was still waiting for my answer.
"Nobody told me about it," I said. "I found something unusual behind the wallpaper."
She sighed.
"I was hoping that room had been left alone."
My heart began beating faster.
"You know about it?"
"Yes. I know exactly what you're talking about."
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Can you explain?"
Helen was quiet for a moment.
Then she asked whether I was alone.
I looked toward the hallway.
"Yes."
"Good. I don't want this conversation interrupted."
I didn't like the sound of that.
She began explaining that the house had a history I had never heard about.
Before Robert and Helen owned it, the property had been used as a private office.
It wasn't a regular business.
It was a place where two men had kept documents, financial records, and personal correspondence.
One of those men had been Elora's late husband.
Arthur.
I remembered his name immediately.
He had been Shane's father.
I had met him during my marriage.
He was a quiet man who rarely discussed his work.
He had died several years earlier.
"What was Arthur doing in that house?"
Helen explained that her father had known him for many years.
They had trusted each other with important paperwork.
The small room behind the wall had been used to store records that Arthur didn't want mixed with his ordinary business documents.
I looked toward the spare bedroom.
"Why was it hidden?"
"That was Arthur's idea. My father didn't agree with him, but he allowed it."
"Do you know what was inside?"
"I never saw everything."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Then why are you telling me this?"
Helen took a breath.
"Because Elora came to our house years ago."
I froze.
"When?"
"Not long after Arthur died."
I looked at the notebook on the dining table.
The old photograph.
The luggage tag.
Everything seemed to be connected.
"What did she want?"
"She asked my father whether the hidden room still existed."
I swallowed.
"And what did he say?"
"He told her that it was still there, but the entrance had been covered during the renovations."
I looked at the wall again.
That explained the unusual wallpaper.
But it didn't explain why Elora had waited so many years to investigate.
"Did she tell your father why she was looking for it?"
Helen hesitated.
"She said Arthur had left something behind."
"What?"
"Documents."
I felt my hands become cold.
"What documents?"
"I don't know. My father never told me exactly what they contained."
I stood up.
"Was there a key?"
Helen paused.
"Yes."
I immediately remembered the old luggage tag.
214\.
"Was it numbered?"
"I believe so."
I looked at the shoebox.
"Could the number have been 214?"
Helen didn't answer immediately.
Then she said something that made me sit down again.
"That sounds familiar."
I closed my eyes.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
There was a connection between the room, the photograph, the old tag, and Arthur.
But why had Elora chosen my house?
Why had she needed four weeks?
And why had she been so interested in my working hours?
I asked Helen whether she knew anything about the documents Arthur had hidden.
She told me that her father had once mentioned a disagreement involving Arthur's family.
Apparently, Arthur had been concerned that his children might eventually fight over the family property.
He wanted certain matters settled fairly.
But he didn't trust everyone involved.
I immediately thought about Shane.
Then Melissa.
Then Daniel.
I didn't want to.
But their names were already in Elora's notebook.
"Did Arthur leave a will?" I asked.
"Of course. But my father believed there were additional papers."
"Additional papers?"
"Something Arthur wanted kept separate."
I looked at the photograph.
The filing cabinet.
The narrow door.
The little metal plate.
I felt as though I was standing outside a story that had been unfolding for years without my knowledge.
"Why didn't Elora tell me any of this?"
Helen sighed.
"Perhaps she was afraid you would refuse to become involved."
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I had already become involved.
I had opened my home.
I had rearranged my working hours.
I had helped her bathe, dress, and move around safely.
I had driven her to medical appointments.
And I had done all of it without knowing that she was searching for something connected to her late husband.
"Did she ever return to the house?"
Helen answered carefully.
"She visited once more."
"When?"
"About two weeks before you bought it."
That surprised me.
"Before I bought the house?"
"Yes. My father was still alive then."
I tried to remember the dates.
I had purchased the property after my divorce.
It had been listed through an estate agent.
There had been nothing unusual about the sale.
"Did she go inside?"
"Yes. My father let her look around."
I felt a chill.
"Did she find the room?"
"No. The wall had already been repaired."
I looked at the spare bedroom.
Then I remembered something.
When I bought the house, the estate agent had mentioned that the previous owners had done some work before putting it on the market.
I had never asked what the work involved.
Now I wished I had.
"Did Elora know I would eventually buy the property?"
Helen was silent.
Then she answered.
"I can't say for certain."
I stared at the phone.
"Please don't hide anything from me."
She sighed.
"Claire, I think she hoped you might buy it."
My mouth went dry.
"What?"
"She mentioned you once. She said you were someone Arthur would have trusted."
I couldn't understand.
Arthur had barely known me.
He had never spoken to me about his private affairs.
And I had certainly never imagined he had any connection to the house I would eventually purchase.
"Did she know the property was going to be sold?"
"I think so."
I sat quietly.
The possibility was beginning to frighten me.
If Elora had known about the house before I bought it, perhaps her decision to remain close to me hadn't been entirely innocent.
Perhaps she had been waiting for an opportunity.
Perhaps the accident had simply brought that opportunity forward.
I looked at the notebook again.
The notes about my working hours suddenly made more sense.
She needed privacy.
She needed time.
And she needed access to that bedroom without someone constantly walking in.
I asked Helen one final question.
"Did my former father-in-law leave anything else in that room?"
She hesitated.
Then she said:
"My father once told me there was a locked cabinet containing original documents and a letter addressed to Arthur's family."
I felt my breathing change.
"A letter to whom?"
"I don't know."
"Was it addressed to Elora?"
"I never saw the envelope."
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, I imagined Elora standing in my spare bedroom.
Looking at the wall.
Waiting until I left for work.
Watching the clock.
Perhaps she had been trying to find the entrance.
Perhaps she had been searching for something Arthur had hidden years earlier.
But I still didn't know why.
And I wasn't willing to invent an explanation.
"Is there anything else I should know?"
Helen thought for a moment.
Then she spoke more softly.
"Claire, if you find the original papers, don't throw them away. And don't let anyone take them before you know what they are."
I stared at the wall.
"Why?"
"Because my father believed those papers could settle a disagreement that had been going on inside Arthur's family for years."
The call ended shortly afterward.
I remained seated for several minutes.
The house was silent.
I could hear the refrigerator humming downstairs.
A car passed outside.
Everything looked ordinary.
But nothing felt ordinary anymore.
I returned to the spare bedroom.
I examined the wall once more.
The metal edge was still there.
I touched it lightly.
Then I stepped back.
I wasn't going to break anything open.
Not without knowing what I was dealing with.
I returned to the dining table and opened the shoebox.
The old notebook was still lying where I had left it.
I turned to the last few pages.
There were more entries.
This time, I noticed a folded sheet tucked between two pages.
It was a letter.
The handwriting was Elora's.
My name appeared at the top.
Claire.
I stared at it for a long time.
Then I unfolded the paper.
The first sentence read:
"If you're reading this, then Patricia has finally given you the box, and I owe you an explanation."
I stopped.
I read the sentence again.
She had known Patricia might bring the shoebox to me.
She had expected this moment.
I continued.
"I know you may feel betrayed. I understand that. I should have told you the truth before I asked you to help me."
My fingers tightened around the paper.
Then I reached the next paragraph.
Elora explained that she had not come to my home simply because she needed somewhere to recover.
She had chosen my house because she believed it was the safest place to look for something Arthur had hidden.
She also admitted that she had been asking about my schedule because she needed time alone to investigate the old room.
I stopped reading.
There it was.
The answer Patricia had been trying to give me.
Elora had planned her stay.
Not every detail of the accident.
Not every moment of her recovery.
But the decision to come to my house had been made for another reason.
I looked toward the bedroom.
The same room where I had placed fresh flowers.
The same room where I had carefully arranged her medication.
The same room where I had thought she was resting peacefully.
My eyes returned to the letter.
There was more.
Elora had written that she wanted to explain everything face-to-face.
But she was afraid I would hear Shane's name and refuse to listen.
I almost put the letter down.
Then I noticed the final sentence on the page.
"Before you decide whether you can forgive me, please understand that what Arthur left behind concerns all three of his children, and I believe you are the only person who can help me uncover the truth."
I sat there until the light outside began to fade.
I wasn't ready to forgive her.
I wasn't even sure I wanted to speak to her.
But I knew one thing.
The shoebox was not the end of the story.
It was the first piece of a much larger truth.
And somewhere behind the wall of my spare bedroom was something Arthur had hidden long before I ever moved into that house.
Something Elora had spent years trying to find.
I folded the letter carefully.
Then I placed it back inside the envelope.
For the first time, I picked up my phone with the intention of calling my former mother-in-law.
But I didn't press her number.
Not yet.
I wanted to know what was inside that hidden room first.
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: I Finally Opened the Hidden Compartment Behind the Wallpaper, and the First Document Inside Carried My Former Father-in-Law’s Signature
I Thought My Marriage Was the Only Thing My Ex-Husband’s Family Had Taken From Me, Until His Mother Needed My Help
Part 8 of 20
