After three years locked away, I returned to learn my father had d!ed and my stepmother ruled his house. She didn’t know he’d hidden a letter and key, leading to a unit and video proving frame-up.

An older man leaned on a rake near the shed. Alert eyes. Wary.

“My father,” I said. “Thomas Vance.”

He studied me. Then shook his head.

“Don’t look.”

My stomach dropped.

“He’s not here.”

He introduced himself as Harold, the groundskeeper. Said he knew my father.

Then he handed me a worn envelope.

“He told me to give you this. If you ever came.”

Inside was a letter. A card. And a key.