Grant noticed that Franklin seemed a tense as they all entered the mansion. He fast walked up the stairs to his room.

"Something happen on the ride back?" Grant asked Sophia.

Sophia shook her head. "Nothing major but let's just say that my dad isn't really the sensitive type."

Grant went to his guest room where he inspected his wounds. He had a sore jaw and some minor scrapes, but other than that he looked and felt fine. He decided to check up on Franklin in his room.

Franklin was quick to express his frustration once Grant had come into his room. "I feel like some patient with all these people I'm seeing and people coming in to help with my...condition as they call it."

"Your family is just worried about you," said Grant. "I mean your this close to dropping out of college and you don't see or talk to anyone anymore. You gotta admit its unhealthy."

"Don't you fucking start," said Franklin. "Just don't."

"Alright I'm sorry," said Grant. "I'll let you be for now."

Franklin sat down glumly in front of his computer. "Yeah that'd be best. I'm going to spend some time with her now."

Grant went back downstairs for a drink of water. Entering the kitchen area he noticed that Estelle was standing there in a bathrobe, stirring what looked like a cup of coffee or hot chocolate.

"Uh, what?"

Estelle looked up. "Didn't Miss Ogden tell you that I was staying here? Hotels are expensive. She was kind enough to offer one of this mansion's many guest rooms."

"Don't tell me Brock Sanderson is sleep here as well."

"Nah he said he preferred a motel. Likes to keep to himself."

"I see. Hey, thanks for helping me out at the restaurant today."

Estelle smiled. "I was sure you could handle yourself but the man was getting on my nerves."

"You’re a trained martial artist?"

"Oh yeah a few years of karate and jiu jitsu camps when I was little. Took self-defense courses in college too."

"Huh, maybe you could show me a few moves sometime."

Estelle picked up her cup and sipped the steaming liquid slowly. "You trained before too?"

"Self-taught," said Grant. "A mix of this and that."

"Think you could take me?"

"Depends on where you want to go."

Estelle set down the cup put on an amused look. "This house is impressive but they don't have a dojo or a spacious fitness room."

"Shame," said Grant. "Some other time then."

Estelle finished her drink quickly before shooting him a knowing look. "Some other time." After washing her cup in the sink she made her way out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the guest rooms.

Grant got his cup of water before heading up the stairs one more time to pay Sophia a visit.

"Come in," she said through the door when Grant knocked.

Sophia was sitting at her dressing table, brushing her hair. She was in a thin silver nightgown which made her look grown up. It was strange for Grant to be reminded of how many years had past.

"This was supposed to be a one day visit," said Grant. "My parents plan to leave at midnight. They're catching up with your mom and dad downstairs."

"I see," said Sophia. "Well that's ok you guys only live an hour away."

"I've decided to stay," said Grant. "I want to help Franklin."

Sophia set down her brush and turned in her chair. "You don't have to do this Grant."

"I know."

Sophia got up and slowly walked towards Grant. Her nightgown was untied, allowing both halves to fall to the side. As she moved the material would flap to the side a little more, revealing the dark color of the nipples.

"Sophia you should probably tie up your nightgown," said Grant, taking a step back.

She was much too close. Grant could feel her sweet smelling breath on his nose and lips.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"You were the first guy I ever fell for," Sophia whispered. "And I wanted you to be the last. You've always been a good guy, a good man."

"Your family," said Grant. "It's what we do for each other."

"You said you didn't want any reward for helping my brother," she continued. "Well if you won't accept money, maybe this will do."

Before Grant could protest, Sophia has kissed him full on the mouth. The taste of her saliva mixing with his made him nearly lose control in an instant. Grant felt disgusted with himself, like he had betrayed something important and dear yet he could not find the will to stop.

“You’re the scum of the earth,” Grant thought to himself.

"I'm probably not as pretty as your girlfriend was," said Sophia, Grant noticing a tear going down her face as she pulled back. "But I'll do my best."

"Sophia," said Grant, swallowing hard as she gripped her by the arms. "I-I was always thought you were beautiful. This house was like a castle. And you were the princess."

Sophia smiled a little. "Say it again."

Grant whispered into her ear. "You’re beautiful."

Sophia dropped down to her knees in a graceful motion and pulled down Grant's trousers. His stiff cock flicked out and as soon as his pants dropped down to the ankles, Sophia took his warm manhood into her mouth. Her hand gripped his bottom for support as she moved her head back and forth slowly.

No more than five minutes after Sophia had first kissed him, she took him to her bed and drew his cock deep between her thighs. Grant made love to her with energetic urgency and he came hard and fast. Sophia looked up lovingly at Grant as he spewed his hot seed inside.

"If you do that you might become a daddy," Sophia whispered as Grant lowered himself to kiss her.

"What would your parents say?" said Grant.

"They might throw me out," said Sophia. "But I never needed this kind of life anyways. Even if it’s only just this one time I'm glad. I'm glad that we did this. I kn-I know we can't be together so just for now, hold me."

Grant lay by her side and hugged her tight. He waited for her to cry herself to sleep before falling into a world of dark dreams. Waking up at 4 in the morning and feeling drained of his soul, Grant snuck out of the room and returned to his own downstairs. He dreamed no more for the rest of the night, much to his relief.

Grant didn't say anything to Sophia during breakfast nor after. Though there was discussion about it, Grant knew it was best to leave what transpired the night before as a memory and nothing more. He couldn't afford distractions, not when he had decided to help Franklin first.

"You will be ok here son?" said Grant's father as he loaded the last of the luggage into the trunk.

"Can't think of places much better than this house to stay at," said Grant.

"True that. Welp your mother and I will head down to the suburban desert then. Good luck with Franklin."

"Thanks dad. I'll miss you and mom."

"Ah don't say it unless you mean it," he said with a dismissive wave, before turning towards the car. "Stay safe son."

Grant watched the car disappear past the gate before heading back into the mansion and then to the library. He would begin his research on the painting Grace of the Fountain first by looking into the most famous reproductions made over the years. Many of the creators of the reproductions remained anonymous, likely working for a studio or a commissioner that paid them a hefty sum.

One American painter who made one of the popularly viewed reproductions of the painting claimed to have been given access to the original in 1930. This artist's name was Patrick Lepley who disappeared in 1957 with no leads or hints on his possible whereabouts. The painting in general had an unusual history concerning its ownership.

"Anything interesting come up?" said a woman.

Grant turned. Estelle had entered the library, eating a cookie.

"Nothing really yet. I'm just looking at all the reproductions made over the years. Some claimed to have been in possession of the original, some claimed to have seen it. All in the U.S. too."

"That means if the painting did get off the ship somehow then the passenger that took it must have stayed here in this country. Well that certainly narrows it down."

"There is something I think you'd be interested in learning," said Grant. "Franklin isn't the only one who has obsessed over the woman in the painting before. In 2002 a sophomore in high school hung himself in front of the painting. He left behind a long note, a large part of it describing his deep depression, how a loser like himself would forever suffer staring at beauty that was beyond his reach. Another person killed one of his friends when he insulted the painting. Two out of three of the owners aside from the painter of the original died in similar manners. There were signs of struggle, one died in his bed, and one in a chair. No possible suspects were ever apprehended."

Estelle looked down at Grant's computer screen. She seems to be deep in thought.

"Do you think they were killed over the painting?"

"They weren't killed," said Grant quietly. "At least not be someone else. Both cases were ruled to be suicidal despite the signs of struggle in their rooms."

"But maybe the killer made it look that way."

"Yeah maybe but the more I dig the less thrilled I am about this whole job. I worry for Franklin more and more."

Estelle nodded. "You have my sympathies. Anyways, I suppose its only fair that I share what I have learned as well. The creator of the artwork, Aldo Ricci, was a very introverted man who was described as friendly by those who knew him. He never married though he often told people he was. Also was known to be openly resentful towards the Christians and their god though he considered himself very spiritual. When asked about Grace of the Fountain he always said that it was his greatest masterpiece. He said it was difficult to part with the piece when he sold it but he was comforted by the idea that its beauty would continue to entertain and comfort other people. During the final year of his life he became abruptly choleric, fearful, and reclusive despite being by all accounts a happy man before. He last words were those spoken in contempt of this world."

"Well they do say that great artists all have a touch of insanity."

Estelle frowned. "I've never heard that before."

"Trust me its a popular belief."

"You forgot about the last owner of the painting, Hugh Trenton. He perished on the Dutchess of Scotland. So that makes three owners that died before their time."

"Where is the wreck located?"

"Southeast of the state of New York. 226 feet below the surface of the water. We will dive down to her in two days."

"What?"

Estelle blinked at him. "Oh you didn't know? I've booked flights for tomorrow."