Chapter 5 - The Room Beneath the HouseThere was a hidden room beneath my mansion.
I didn't know it existed.
That sentence alone made me question every memory I had of the place.
The entrance was beneath the wine cellar.
A steel panel disguised as concrete.
The silver key opened it.
Inside was a narrow staircase.
The air smelled like dust and chemicals.
Grace followed me.
“Don't.”
I looked at her.
“You're scared.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
At the bottom was a room filled with monitors.
Dozens.
Every room in my house.
Every hallway.
Every bedroom.
The nursery.
The kitchen.
Even my office.
Someone had been watching us for years.
Not months.
Years.
I found folders.
ISABELLE.
OLIVIA.
SOPHIE.
NORA.
And one file labeled:
PROJECT SUNSHINE.
I opened it.
Inside were photographs of my daughters.
Sleeping.
Eating.
Playing.
At school.
There were medical records.
Psychological evaluations.
Behavioral profiles.
My hands shook.
Then I found a recording.
Isabelle appeared on screen.
She looked tired.
Frightened.
Alive.
“If you're watching this,” she said, “I'm probably dead.”
I sat down.
She looked directly into the camera.
“My husband believes our enemies are outside the family.”
She smiled sadly.
“He is wrong.”
My chest tightened.
“The threat is inside.”
She paused.
“Someone has been using our daughters to control him.”
I leaned closer.
“The girls witnessed something no child should ever see.”
Isabelle looked away.
“They saw the man who murdered me.”
My heart pounded.
Then she said:
“And they know his face.”
The screen changed.
A second video appeared.
The girls were younger.
Maybe four years ago.
They were sitting in this room.
A man stood behind them.
His face was blurred.
He placed his hands on their shoulders.
I watched.
Then I noticed something.
His wrist.
Two watches.
The same strange outline Olivia had described.
The man spoke.
“Daddy can't know.”
The recording ended.
I turned toward Grace.
“Who is he?”
She whispered:
“I don't know.”
I grabbed her.
“You knew about this room.”
“No.”
“You knew Isabelle was investigating.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my daughters were threatened.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you come into this house?”
Grace looked at me.
“To finish what Isabelle couldn't.”
“What?”
“To protect them.”
Before I could respond, something slammed upstairs.
The monitors flickered.
One screen showed Nora standing in the hallway.
Alone.
Another showed the front door opening.
A figure entered.
Tall.
Black coat.
Two watches.
I sprinted upstairs.
Grace followed.
We reached the hallway.
Nora was gone.
My heart stopped.
“NO!”
I ran room to room.
Nothing.
Then Olivia screamed.
I found her beside the staircase.
Sophie was holding her.
“What happened?”
Olivia pointed toward the front door.
“He took Nora.”
“Who?”
She was crying too hard to speak.
Sophie whispered:
“The man from the video.”
I ran outside.
The gates were open.
A black SUV disappeared down the road.
I raised my gun.
Too far.
My phone rang.
I answered.
The same voice.
“You wanted the truth.”
My grip tightened.
“Bring my daughter back.”
“You'll get her.”
“When?”
“When you finally remember.”
“Remember what?”
The voice laughed softly.
“You were there too.”
The call ended.
I stood frozen.
Grace came running.
“What happened?”
I stared at her.
“What did you know about the night Isabelle died?”
She looked at me.
“I know you were there.”
My blood ran cold.
“I wasn't.”
Grace's voice trembled.
“You were.”
“No.”
“You just don't remember.”
Then she pointed at my cuff.
The blood.
The blood that had dried on my sleeve before I came home.
The blood from the man I had confronted six hours earlier.
Grace whispered:
May you like
“That's not his blood.”
“It belongs to Isabelle.”
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