Chapter 2 - The darkness lasted eleven seconds.I know because I counted every one.
In eleven seconds, four armed men could reposition.
A hidden door could close.
A person could disappear.
By the twelfth second, the emergency lights flickered on.
Marco was gone.
So were two of his security men.
The other two remained by the doorway, hands visible.
“Where is DeLuca?” I asked.
Neither man answered.
Claire suddenly gripped my sleeve.
“Your youngest daughter.”
I turned.
Lily was gone.
My stomach dropped.
“Sophie!”
“She was beside me,” Sophie said.
“No. Lily.”
We searched the room.
Nothing.
Then I heard it.
A tiny sound from behind the bookshelf.
“Dad.”
Lily.
I shoved the shelf aside.
The opening was larger now.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
“Lily!”
No response.
I switched on my flashlight and stepped through.
The air smelled of old stone and machine oil.
A single red bulb glowed every twenty feet.
The passage was not part of the mansion blueprints.
I knew because I had personally commissioned those plans.
At the bottom of the stairs, the corridor split in two.
One direction was marked R-17.
The other had no marking.
Claire followed me.
“Stay behind me.”
She nodded.
We reached the R-17 door.
It was steel.
Newer than everything around it.
Someone had installed it recently.
I held up the brass key.
It fit perfectly.
The lock turned.
Inside was a small room.
A monitor covered one wall.
Old security cameras filled the screens.
The mansion.
Every hallway.
Every bedroom.
Every entrance.
Even Elena’s sitting room.
I looked at Claire.
“How long has this been here?”
She swallowed.
“Since before I came to work for you.”
I stared at her.
“You said Elena found the passage two weeks before she died.”
“She found the passage.”
“Then who built this?”
Claire did not answer.
A monitor flickered.
I saw myself.
Standing in the room.
Then another camera angle.
Sophie in the hallway.
Then Lily.
Walking.
Alone.
Toward a third section of the tunnel.
I ran back into the corridor.
We found her ten seconds later.
She stood in front of an old wooden door.
Barefoot.
Calm.
Almost peaceful.
“Lily.”
She turned.
In her hand was a photograph.
I took it from her.
My breath stopped.
It showed Elena standing beside a black sedan.
She was holding baby Lily.
But on the back was a date.
Three months after Elena was supposedly killed.
“That’s impossible.”
Claire stepped beside me.
Her lips parted.
She recognized the photo.
“She wanted you to find this.”
“Who?”
“Elena.”
I flipped the photograph over again.
There was another message.
Written in Elena’s handwriting.
If Adrian comes home early, open R-17.
My name was Adrian.
Nobody outside my family knew how Elena used to shorten it to “Ad.”
Nobody except Elena.
And the people who had watched us.
I turned slowly toward Claire.
“You knew this was here.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Elena might have survived.”
Claire started crying.
“I knew she wanted to tell you.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She looked toward Lily.
“I was supposed to protect her.”
“Protect her from who?”
Claire opened her mouth.
The lights went out again.
This time they did not return.
Then something slammed against the other side of the wooden door.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Lily stepped backward.
For the first time, fear appeared in her eyes.
She pointed at the door.
May you like
And whispered:
“Mom is not alone.”
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