Chapter 3 - Unit Seven
Blackwood family owned properties across three states.
Warehouses.
Hotels.
Private estates.
Historic land.
No Unit 7 appeared on active records.
But one retired property register did.
BLACKWOOD STORAGE ANNEX — UNIT 1 through 12.
Demolished thirteen years earlier.
Except demolition permits showed only Units 1–6 and 8–12.
Unit 7 had no demolition certificate.
Ronan stared.
“How do you demolish a building except one unit?”
The answer:
Unit 7 wasn’t inside the building.
It was a separately titled underground records vault beneath adjacent land.
The land was later sold.
Buyer:
Hale Family Holdings.
Vivienne’s family.
Ronan looked at her.
She didn’t flinch.
“My father bought dozens of properties.”
“From my father?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know Unit 7 was underneath?”
“I don’t know.”
Another partial truth.
Then Ivy finally explained why Alexander knew her.
Her mother had worked at Blackwood Storage Annex.
Name:
Marian Mercer.
Records administrator.
She died when Ivy was seventeen.
Alexander attended funeral.
Then contacted Ivy privately.
Why?
Because Marian had been custodian of Unit 7.
Ivy said Alexander gave her the key one year before his own death.
Not directly.
Through sealed letter.
“Then why was the key photographed on his chest?”
Ivy shook her head.
“That wasn’t the same key.”
Ronan compared funeral photo.
Looked identical.
But Ivy pointed to crest.
Funeral key had a small crack through lower lion.
The one in Ronan’s hand didn’t.
Two keys.
Duplicates.
One buried?
One given to Ivy?
Then why would Vivienne recognize this exact one?
Vivienne whispered:
“Because my father had one too.”
Silence.
Graham Hale possessed third key.
Or another duplicate.
What did Unit 7 require?
Maybe multiple keys.
Then estate plans surfaced.
Unit 7 door had three-key locking mechanism.
Each key assigned to separate custodian.
Blackwood.
Records custodian.
Outside counsel.
Alexander.
Marian Mercer.
Graham Hale.
Three people.
No one could open alone.
Ronan looked at Ivy.
“When your mother died, her key passed to you.”
“Yes.”
“And my father’s?”
“Supposedly buried.”
“And Graham?”
Vivienne answered:
“My father died last year.”
“Where’s his key?”
She looked away.
Ronan understood.
“You have it.”
Vivienne said nothing.
Then Ronan asked:
“So why were you smiling when Ivy’s key fell?”
Vivienne finally answered:
“Because I thought there were only two keys left.”
Ronan frowned.
“What does that mean?”
May you like
Vivienne looked toward Ivy.
“It means somebody already opened Unit 7.”
