Chapter 5 - The Secret RoomBy sunrise, the hotel room was surrounded by police.
But when investigators checked the hallway cameras, nobody had entered.
The photograph had apparently been taken from inside the room.
There was no explanation.
Except one.
Someone had access to a master key.
Ethan paced near the window.
“This is my fault.”
“No.”
“They came after you because of me.”
“No.”
“I should have believed you earlier.”
I turned toward him.
“This isn't about blame.”
“Then what is it about?”
“The truth.”
At nine that morning, Victor woke in the hospital.
We went immediately.
He looked terrible.
A bandage covered the side of his head.
His first words were:
“Did they get the file?”
“What file?” Ethan asked.
Victor looked at me.
“The file from the basement.”
I frowned.
“You said basement.”
“The basement in your old house.”
“My old house?”
Victor nodded.
“The house your husband owned before he died.”
I froze.
Richard's old house had been sold eleven years ago.
Or so I thought.
“That's impossible.”
Victor shook his head.
“Your husband never sold it.”
“What?”
“Thomas Reed forged the sale.”
Ethan stared.
“Then who owns it?”
Victor handed me a key.
“Your mother-in-law.”
My heart stopped.
My mother-in-law had died seven years ago.
Victor continued.
“Before she died, she told me there was a hidden room under the staircase.”
I closed my hand around the key.
“What is inside?”
“The proof.”
“What proof?”
“Everything.”
Richard's murder.
The shell companies.
The blackmail.
The original trust agreement.
And perhaps the identity of the person who had been manipulating Ethan.
We drove there that afternoon.
The house had been abandoned for years.
Dust coated the windows.
The garden had become a wilderness.
Ethan looked at me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Inside, the air smelled of damp wood.
I remembered every room.
The kitchen.
The hallway.
Richard's study.
And the staircase where Ethan had taken his first steps.
I knelt beside the third stair.
There was a loose wooden panel.
I pulled it away.
A steel lock appeared beneath it.
The key fit.
The door opened.
Inside was a narrow chamber.
Shelves covered three walls.
Hundreds of files.
Tapes.
Photographs.
Bank records.
And one red folder.
My name was written across the front.
Margaret Carter.
Ethan picked it up.
“Mom?”
“Open it.”
Inside was a document dated twelve years ago.
It was Richard's final letter.
I read the first line.
Margaret, if you are reading this, then I am already dead.
My hands trembled.
The letter explained everything.
Richard had discovered that Daniel Mitchell was laundering money through Carter Holdings.
He had planned to expose him.
But someone inside the family warned Daniel.
Richard had been poisoned.
Thomas Reed helped conceal the murder.
But Richard had anticipated betrayal.
He had hidden evidence in the house.
And then came the sentence that made my heart stop.
The person who betrayed me is someone Margaret trusts completely.
I read it again.
Ethan looked at me.
“Who?”
I couldn't answer.
Then a second sheet fell from the folder.
A photograph.
Richard stood beside someone.
I recognized the person immediately.
I dropped the photograph.
Ethan picked it up.
His face went pale.
It was Daniel Mitchell.
Standing beside my husband.
But the photograph had been taken fourteen years ago.
Before Ethan met Vanessa.
Before the Mitchells entered our lives.
Before Richard died.
On the back, in Richard's handwriting, were six words:
He knows where the money came from.
Suddenly, we heard footsteps upstairs.
Ethan looked toward the ceiling.
Someone else had entered the house.
We turned off the light.
The footsteps moved slowly toward the staircase.
One step.
Then another.
A key rattled in the hidden door.
Someone knew we were there.
Then a voice floated down.
May you like
Vanessa's voice.
“I know you're inside.”
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