Chapter 2 - THE MAN AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS
The first thing Nico Ferrara did after hearing my confession was lock the bedroom door.
The second was hand me his shirt.
“Put this on.”
I stared at him.
Five minutes earlier, this man had ordered me to undress like I was something he owned. Now he stood with his back turned, waiting while I covered the scars he had uncovered.
I slipped into the shirt. It smelled faintly of cedar and expensive cologne.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked.
“I haven't decided whether I am.”
His answer should have frightened me.
Instead, its honesty was almost comforting.
Another knock came.
“Boss, Ashford's threatening to call the police.”
Nico gave a humorless laugh.
“Tell him to call whoever he wants.”
He turned toward me.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
The word surprised us both.
Nico stopped.
I swallowed.
“If you go downstairs without knowing what he's capable of, he'll make you believe something that isn't true.”
“Such as?”
“That I'm mentally unstable. That I invent stories. That I need medication.”
Nico's expression tightened.
“Has he done that before?”
“For years.”
He studied me for several seconds.
Then he unlocked the door.
“Come with me.”
We descended the grand staircase together.
The Ferrara mansion looked nothing like my father's home. Dark marble floors reflected enormous chandeliers. Oil paintings lined the walls. Two armed guards stood beside the entrance.
And in the center of the foyer stood Edmund Ashford.
My father.
His silver hair was perfectly combed. His navy suit looked immaculate. He wore the same concerned expression he had practiced for years whenever outsiders asked why his daughter rarely appeared in public.
“Nora, sweetheart.”
I stopped three steps from the bottom.
He opened his arms.
“Thank God you're all right.”
Nico moved slightly in front of me.
“Your daughter is fine.”
My father ignored him.
“Nora, come here.”
My feet almost moved automatically.
Years of obedience were difficult to erase in one night.
Nico noticed.
He didn't touch me.
He simply said, “She can decide where she stands.”
My father smiled tightly.
“Mr. Ferrara, there's been a misunderstanding.”
“You offered me your daughter.”
“Under extreme duress.”
“And now?”
“Now I've realized she isn't well enough for this arrangement.”
My stomach twisted.
There it was.
The familiar script.
“Nora has suffered from emotional disturbances since childhood,” my father continued. “She sometimes becomes confused about events that happened years ago.”
Nico's face remained unreadable.
“Interesting.”
“I have medical documentation.”
“I'm sure you do.”
My father reached into his jacket.
Every guard in the foyer shifted.
“Slowly,” Nico warned.
My father produced a folded document.
“A psychiatric evaluation. She requires supervision.”
Nico took it, glanced at the first page, and handed it to his security chief.
“Have our doctor verify this.”
Then he looked at me.
“Nora, do you want to leave with him?”
My father's eyes found mine.
They contained a warning so familiar I could almost feel the leather belt against my back.
I couldn't speak.
“Nora,” he said softly, “remember what happens when you make poor decisions.”
Nico heard it.
I saw the moment he understood.
His shoulders became perfectly still.
“What happens, Edmund?”
My father blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“When she makes poor decisions. What happens?”
“That's a private family matter.”
“Not anymore.”
My father stepped closer.
“Nora, your mother would be ashamed of this behavior.”
Something inside me cracked.
“My mother is dead.”
His expression flickered.
“Yes, sweetheart. I know.”
“You told me she died in a car accident.”
“She did.”
I looked directly at Nico.
“She didn't.”
The foyer went silent.
My father stopped breathing for a moment.
It was barely noticeable.
But I had spent my entire childhood studying his face for signs of danger.
I noticed.
“Nora,” he whispered.
I kept looking at Nico.
“When I was twelve, I heard my mother screaming inside his study.”
My father's voice sharpened.
“That's enough.”
“I saw blood beneath the door.”
“Nora!”
“And the next morning, he told me she'd died on the highway.”
Nico turned slowly toward my father.
“Your wife died in a car accident?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
“What hospital?”
My father hesitated.
“St. Mary's.”
Nico looked at his security chief.
“Find the records.”
My father laughed nervously.
“Surely you don't believe this nonsense.”
I stepped down the final stair.
“For fourteen years, you've told me I imagined what happened.”
“Nora, you're embarrassing yourself.”
“You made me repeat that story to doctors until I started believing it.”
His smile disappeared.
“Come home.”
“No.”
The word came out quietly.
But it was the first time I had ever said it to him without apologizing afterward.
My father stared at me.
Then his gaze moved toward Nico.
“You have no idea what you're getting involved in.”
Nico approached him.
“Then explain.”
My father lowered his voice.
“Some secrets are worth more than eight million dollars.”
Nico didn't move.
“Try me.”
For one terrible second, I thought my father might finally confess.
Instead, he smiled.
A cold, familiar smile.
“You think my daughter is the only person who knows what happened that night?”
My blood went cold.
He leaned closer to Nico.
“Ask her what she did with the little blue key.”
I gripped the staircase railing.
Nico looked back at me.
“Nora?”
My father watched my face.
And smiled wider.
Because he had just reminded me of the one thing I'd managed to hide from him for fourteen years.
The key my mother pressed into my palm before she disappeared.
May you like
And the words she whispered through the crack beneath the study door.
If anything happens to me, never let your father find what this opens.
