Chapter 8 - THE BASEMENTWhat They Buried Beneath RosehillWe returned at 11:42 p.m.
Rosehill was dark.
The lobby had been emptied.
No tenants.
No manager.
No security.
It felt abandoned.
But the eviction notices still hung on the walls.
Lena and Pilar were gone from the shelter.
That was the first warning.
The second was blood on the stairwell.
Fresh.
I followed the trail downward.
“Lucas.”
He nodded.
“Keep going.”
The basement door had a keypad.
No electricity.
Yet the keypad was illuminated.
A four-digit code appeared automatically.
0518
My birthday.
I entered it.
The lock opened.
Inside was a concrete corridor extending beneath the building.
Rows of steel doors lined the walls.
Each had a name.
Real people.
Residents.
Politicians.
Developers.
Judges.
Bankers.
I opened one.
Photographs.
Financial records.
Audio tapes.
Private agreements.
Blackmail.
I opened another.
Same.
Another.
Same.
“Your grandfather built a leverage system,” Lucas said.
“Not just leverage.”
I stared down the corridor.
“He had files on everyone.”
“Exactly.”
At the end stood a vault door.
Above it was carved:
THE FAMILY
The lock required two keys.
My black key.
Another was missing.
Then I heard footsteps behind us.
Martin.
He stood at the far end of the corridor.
Three men surrounded him.
He looked exhausted.
“You should have listened.”
I raised my phone.
“You're being recorded.”
He smiled.
“By whom?”
I glanced at the screen.
No signal.
He stepped closer.
“You think this is about money.”
“It isn't?”
“No.”
He looked at Lucas.
“This is about inheritance.”
Lucas went pale.
“Inheritance of what?”
Martin looked at me.
“Not property.”
He touched his chest.
“Power.”
Then he pulled out a pistol.
“Give me the key.”
I held it up.
“No.”
Martin sighed.
“I didn't want to hurt you.”
“Then don't.”
“You're already too late.”
“What does that mean?”
He nodded toward a monitor mounted on the wall.
It flickered on.
Live footage.
Lena.
Bound to a chair.
Pilar beside her.
My blood turned to ice.
A man stood behind them.
Mr. Cole.
Martin said:
“Your niece is alive.”
I stared.
“My niece?”
Martin smiled.
“That's why your mother hid her.”
I looked at Lucas.
His face collapsed.
“No,” he whispered.
Martin continued.
“Lena isn't Pilar's granddaughter.”
I couldn't breathe.
“She is Elena's granddaughter.”
Lucas stepped forward.
Martin lifted the gun.
“And your mother's daughter.”
The world went silent.
Lena was five.
Too young to be part of anything.
Yet somehow the entire eighteen-year conspiracy led back to her.
Martin pointed at me.
“Give me the key.”
I clenched my fist.
“Or?”
He looked at the monitor.
“Or by midnight, everyone in Rosehill dies.”
The clock on the wall read:
May you like
11:47.
Thirteen minutes.
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