Part 3: The Shadow on the Prinsengracht
The rain taps incessantly against the windows of the old canal house at Prinsengracht 42. It is a stately yet gloomy building, tucked between two modern apartments. According to the land registry, this property has belonged to the Vance family for decades, but it was never registered in the official corporate balance sheets of my father's enterprise.
With the golden key I found in the cedarwood box, I open the heavy oak front door. A musty smell of old paper, slate, and forgotten secrets greets me. No lights are burning inside; the darkness is only pierced by the faint streetlamps outside shining through the glass. I close the door behind me and switch on my flashlight. The hallway is filled with antique cabinets and paintings that have remained hidden for generations.
In the corner of the study, I find a desk that matches the digit combination from the black envelope: seven numbers. My heart pounds in my throat. What if this is a trap? What if my father is already following me? In the distance, I hear the sound of a car accelerating outside in the narrow street. Quickly, I enter the code: 4-8-1-9-6-2-0. With a loud mechanical click, the middle drawer of the desk slides open.
There is no money, no gold. Only a thick blue dossier labeled: ‘Project Janus — Evidence Against Victor Vance’ . I open the first page and see to my horror that my father not only committed fraud with company funds, but also hired accomplices to forge grandma's signature on previous donations. Suddenly, I hear glass break in the hallway behind me. Someone has entered.
