The Secrets Hidden in My Daughter Bed and the Husband Who Lied
It was a heavy, antique piece that Nathan had insisted on moving into this room last week.
The brass key was missing from the lock.
I tried the handle, but it was locked tight.
I knelt down beside the wardrobe, searching the floorboards underneath.
Nothing but dust.
I stood up and approached Eleanor’s leather handbag resting on the armchair.
I unzipped it, my hands shaking so hard I could barely grip the metal tab.
Inside were old tissues, a worn wallet, and a heavy ring of brass keys.
One of the keys was small, silver, and modern.
I took the silver key and walked back to the wardrobe.
I slid it into the keyhole.
It turned with a heavy click.
I pulled the wooden doors open.
Inside were hanging coats and a row of neatly stacked cardboard boxes.
I pulled the top box down and set it on the carpet.
It was filled with old photographs of Nathan as a child, his face pale and unsmiling.
Beneath the photographs, my fingers brushed against something hard and cold.
It was a dark green metal lockbox.