Chapter 8 - The Child Behind the Locked DoorThe nursery had been sealed for six years.
Six years.
I had never been allowed inside.
Helena always told me it was part of the old house and unsafe.
I followed her up the stairs.
My hands shook.
The agents surrounded us.
Grant walked behind me.
Nobody spoke.
Helena unlocked the door.
The room smelled like lavender.
There was a crib.
A bookshelf.
Toys.
A rocking chair.
Everything preserved.
Waiting.
I stepped inside.
The crib was empty.
I stared.
“Where is she?”
Helena pointed toward another door.
“It leads to a second room.”
I opened it.
And there she was.
A little girl sat on the floor drawing.
Six years old.
Dark hair.
Green eyes.
She looked up.
Our eyes met.
Something inside me shattered.
“Mom?”
The crayon fell from her hand.
I dropped to my knees.
“Sweetheart.”
She ran toward me.
I caught her.
Her tiny arms wrapped around my neck.
I couldn't stop crying.
“I thought…”
I couldn't finish.
She whispered:
“Grandma said you were dangerous.”
I looked at Helena.
“You told her that?”
Helena looked away.
My daughter pulled back.
“What's your name?”
“Emma.”
I stared at her.
“Emma.”
She smiled.
“I've heard your name.”
“From who?”
“Daddy.”
I looked at Grant.
He was crying.
“I didn't know.”
Emma stood.
“Daddy said mommy was brave.”
Grant covered his face.
I looked at him.
For the first time, I believed him.
Not because he deserved forgiveness.
Because I could see the grief in his eyes.
Elias entered.
“We need to leave.”
Emma looked at him.
“Uncle Elias.”
He froze.
“You know me?”
She nodded.
“Grandma said you're dangerous too.”
Elias looked at Helena.
“Who taught her that?”
Helena said nothing.
Then we heard footsteps.
Slow.
Coming from the hallway.
Victor.
He stepped into the doorway.
Emma immediately hid behind me.
Victor smiled.
“Hello, Emma.”
She began trembling.
I turned toward him.
“What did you do to her?”
“I kept her safe.”
“You imprisoned her.”
“I protected the key.”
“She is a child.”
“She is more than a child.”
He looked at her.
“She is the only other person who can open the vault.”
I held Emma tighter.
“You will never touch her.”
Victor sighed.
“Maria, you still don't understand.”
A loud crash echoed downstairs.
Gunfire followed.
Agents shouted.
Elias drew his weapon.
“Everyone down!”
The lights went out.
Victor disappeared.
We heard doors slamming.
People screaming.
I grabbed Emma and ran.
Grant came behind us.
We reached the staircase.
Smoke filled the hallway.
“Back!”
Elias pointed toward a side corridor.
“There's another exit.”
We ran.
Then Helena stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?”
She pointed at the wall.
A photograph.
A family portrait.
But something was wrong.
There was a figure in the background.
A man.
Watching.
Elias looked closer.
His face changed.
“What?”
He whispered:
“That isn't Victor.”
I stared.
The man in the photograph was someone I knew.
My brother's superior.
The same man from Claire's photograph.
The same man from the ledger.
Elias looked at me.
“That's the real leader.”
“Then who is Victor?”
Before he could answer, a gunshot exploded.
Helena collapsed.
Blood spread across her dress.
Grant caught her.
“Mom!”
She gasped.
Her eyes found me.
“Maria…”
I knelt beside her.
“Who shot you?”
She grabbed my wrist.
“Don't trust…”
Her breath trembled.
“Don't trust…”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Your daughter.”
I stared at Emma.
“No.”
Helena's eyes closed.
Grant screamed for help.
Then Emma suddenly spoke.
“He's coming.”
Everyone froze.
“What?”
Emma pointed toward the smoke-filled hallway.
“I know that man.”
“What man?”
She looked at me.
“The man who visits me when I sleep.”
Elias raised his weapon.
“Where?”
Emma pointed.
A shadow moved.
And a man's voice came from the darkness.
May you like
“Hello, Maria.”
It was the voice of my father.
