Chapter 6 - Adrian stared at the road.The world outside seemed to move without sound.
“You knew who I was?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“My father worked for Thomas Whitmore.”
Adrian frowned.
“What was his name?”
Grace hesitated.
“Michael Miller.”
Adrian remembered.
A financial investigator.
His father's favorite outside auditor.
He had disappeared shortly after Thomas's death.
Adrian had been told Michael Miller stole money and fled the country.
“Your father was accused of embezzling from my company.”
“He didn't steal anything.”
“Then why did he disappear?”
“He was framed.”
Adrian felt his pulse rising.
“By whom?”
Grace whispered:
“Victor.”
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“Victor was a junior security officer twenty years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would he know about my father's finances?”
“He wasn't just security.”
A pause.
“He was Evelyn's messenger.”
Adrian understood.
His mother had created layers of people around herself.
Employees.
Lawyers.
Shell companies.
Guards.
And Malcolm.
Everyone had a role.
Grace continued.
“There is something in the mansion that proves everything.”
“What?”
“A hidden room.”
“Where?”
“East wing.”
Adrian remembered Victor's nervous glances.
The place he'd been watching.
“What's inside?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because I found the door.”
Adrian turned the car around.
Twenty minutes later, he reached the mansion.
He didn't use the front gate.
He entered through an old service tunnel connected to the forest.
Grace waited near the laundry entrance.
“You came.”
Adrian nodded.
“You said you knew I was the beggar.”
“I knew.”
“Why didn't you expose me?”
“Because I needed you to see it yourself.”
“See what?”
Grace looked toward the east wing.
“Your house isn't what you think.”
They moved silently through the corridors.
At the end of the wing stood a portrait of Evelyn.
Adrian studied it.
“What am I looking for?”
Grace pointed to the frame.
“Look at her hand.”
A ring.
Black stone.
Adrian touched it.
Nothing happened.
Grace pressed the lower corner.
A section of wall clicked.
The portrait swung inward.
Behind it was a narrow passage.
Adrian stared.
“How long has this been here?”
“Probably decades.”
They entered.
The passage led underground.
Cold air rushed past them.
At the bottom was a steel door.
Grace entered a six-digit code.
The door opened.
Inside were dozens of files.
Bank records.
Photographs.
Property deeds.
Medical reports.
And hundreds of pages marked:
PROJECT WHITMORE
Adrian picked up a file.
The first page contained his name.
ADRIAN WHITMORE.
Age twenty-two.
Then:
Risk profile: emotionally detached. Highly controllable through family loyalty.
Adrian's face darkened.
Another file.
Thomas Whitmore.
Status: Deceased.
Cause of death: manufactured cardiac event.
Adrian's hands tightened.
Grace found another folder.
“Look.”
Inside was a photograph of Adrian's mother standing beside Malcolm.
But they weren't alone.
A third person stood behind them.
Adrian recognized him.
Victor.
“How?”
Grace shook her head.
Then they heard footsteps.
Someone had entered the passage.
Adrian extinguished the lights.
Grace covered her mouth.
Footsteps came closer.
Slow.
Measured.
Then a man's voice echoed through the tunnel.
“I know you're in there.”
Adrian recognized it.
Victor.
Grace's eyes widened.
The steel door began to move.
Victor had a key.
Adrian grabbed a flashlight.
They ran deeper into the room.
At the far end was another door.
Locked.
Victor entered.
“Mr. Whitmore?”
Adrian froze.
Victor smiled.
“Welcome home.”
Grace stared.
Victor continued:
“You shouldn't have come back.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“You know who I am.”
Victor laughed.
“Of course.”
May you like
Then he raised a pistol.
“And your mother is very disappointed.”
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