Chapter 2 - THE DOOR ON THE FOURTH FLOORPilar Knew My Name Before I DidI stayed silent long enough that Lena started staring at me.
“Are you okay?”
I didn't answer.
Pilar released my wrist.
“Sit.”
I sat.
Not because I wanted to.
Because my knees had stopped feeling reliable.
“What did you just say?”
“Your mother warned me.”
“She’s dead.”
Pilar looked at me strangely.
“Who told you that?”
“My father.”
“And you believed him.”
The way she said it made my skin prickle.
I stood.
“My mother died eighteen years ago.”
Pilar shook her head.
“No.”
“She disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“My father said they recovered her car from the river.”
“They recovered a car.”
I stared at her.
“Whose?”
She looked toward the window.
“The wrong woman’s.”
My heart began beating harder.
Every childhood memory seemed to rearrange itself.
My father had told me the same story every year.
My mother had been driving home.
Rain.
Slippery road.
A guardrail.
No body.
No funeral.
No grave.
Just photographs and silence.
I had been five years old.
Too young to understand.
Old enough to remember waking up screaming for her.
“What happened?”
Pilar looked at Lena.
“Not in front of the child.”
Lena rolled her eyes.
“I know about Mama Elena.”
The room went still.
I looked at her.
“Who told you that name?”
“Grandma.”
“When?”
“Lots.”
“You knew my mother?”
Lena nodded.
“She brought us food.”
“When?”
“Before I was born.”
I stared.
Something didn't fit.
Pilar saw the confusion on my face.
“She came to Rosehill for years.”
“Why?”
“To help people.”
“My mother worked at a hospital.”
Pilar gave a bitter smile.
“That was what your father told everyone.”
I felt anger rising.
“My father loved my mother.”
“No.”
The word was so calm it frightened me more than shouting would have.
“No?”
“He loved what she gave him.”
I stood abruptly.
“Enough.”
Pilar didn't flinch.
“Your father is not the man you think he is.”
“My father has been dead for seven years.”
“I know.”
“You’re accusing a dead man.”
“I’m warning his son.”
My phone vibrated.
A message from my lawyer.
Seller threatening to invoke penalty clause if you don't sign by 10:20.
Twenty-eight minutes.
I looked at the eviction notice again.
The legal owner wasn't listed as my company yet.
But the transfer documents had already been prepared.
Which meant someone had started dismantling Rosehill before the purchase had legally closed.
That alone was enough to stop the transaction.
But I needed proof.
“Lena,” I said, “who is Mr. Cole?”
She pointed toward the hallway.
“The man with the silver tie.”
“When was he here?”
“Yesterday.”
“What did he want?”
“He asked Grandma where the blue box was.”
Pilar's expression changed instantly.
“Lena.”
“What blue box?”
Pilar looked at me.
“Go home.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“You are not safe.”
I leaned toward her.
“Neither are you.”
She looked at my face.
Then, very slowly, she said:
“The box belonged to your mother.”
My chest tightened.
“Where is it?”
“Somewhere your father never found.”
I took out my phone.
“Tell me.”
Pilar pointed upward.
“Roof.”
“There's no roof access.”
“There is for people who know where to look.”
I almost laughed.
“Lady, I own half the city.”
Pilar's eyes hardened.
“You don't own Rosehill.”
“What?”
She leaned closer.
“That's the trap.”
A sudden crash came from downstairs.
Lena jumped.
Pilar grabbed her hand.
“Hide.”
Footsteps entered the building.
Heavy.
Fast.
More than one person.
I moved toward the door.
Pilar whispered:
“Not the front.”
“What?”
“They're here for the box.”
I opened the apartment door and looked down the hall.
Two men were climbing the stairs.
Both wore dark coats.
One had a silver tie.
Mr. Cole.
He looked up.
Our eyes met.
His face went white.
“Mr. Vale.”
I closed the door.
Lena whispered, “Is he bad?”
I looked at Pilar.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
The pounding started.
“Mr. Vale,” Cole called through the door. “This is a private matter.”
I stared at my watch.
Nine minutes before the deal meeting.
Thirty-one minutes before the penalty clause expired.
And the building I was supposed to buy was suddenly full of men hunting for a box my supposedly dead mother had hidden.
Pilar pointed toward the bedroom.
“Behind the wardrobe.”
I moved it.
A narrow wooden panel appeared.
Inside was a metal stairwell.
Lena smiled.
“Grandma says it’s a secret door.”
Pilar said one last thing.
“Go to the roof.”
“You’re coming.”
She shook her head.
“I’m old.”
“I don't care.”
“Adrian.”
She caught my hand.
“Bring back the box.”
“What’s in it?”
Her eyes filled with something I couldn't read.
“Proof.”
Then the apartment door cracked.
Cole shouted.
I grabbed Lena.
We ran.
Up the hidden stairs.
May you like
Toward the roof.
And toward the first secret my mother had left behind.
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