Chapter 4 - THE ROOM THAT HAD BEEN SEALEDThe Blackwood Hotel had changed its name twice since Gabriel disappeared.
Its former ballroom had become a conference center, its grand staircase had been replaced with modern glass railings, and the original owners had sold the property after a financial scandal.
But Room 214 remained.
Dominic stood outside it shortly after noon, accompanied by Rachel and Marcus. He had refused to bring Vanessa, though he had ordered two guards to remain with her at the mansion.
The hotel manager, a nervous man named Peter Collins, unlocked the door.
“I must warn you, Mr. Moretti. This room hasn't been rented in years.”
“Why?”
“An electrical fire. The insurance company ordered an inspection, and the room was sealed afterward.”
Dominic glanced at Rachel.
The courier's description had mentioned a fire.
The manager opened the door.
Dust floated through a shaft of sunlight. The room had been renovated, but the wallpaper remained an old cream color, and a small decorative mirror hung above the desk.
Dominic entered slowly.
Four years earlier, he had stood in this same hotel lobby while a receptionist insisted Gabriel had checked out early.
No one had told him about a fire.
No one had mentioned Room 214.
He approached the desk.
“Where was the fire?”
“Near the bathroom. The original wiring was faulty.”
“Who reported it?”
“The night manager.”
“Name?”
Peter looked uncomfortable.
“Thomas Reed. He no longer works here.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
Dominic turned toward Marcus.
“Find him.”
While Marcus made the call, Rachel walked toward the wardrobe.
She stopped before touching it.
“Sir, look at the floor.”
A faint rectangular outline marked the carpet near the wall. Someone had moved a heavy piece of furniture recently, despite the room supposedly being sealed.
Dominic crouched.
There were fresh scratches around a narrow floor panel.
He pulled out a pocketknife and lifted the edge.
Beneath the panel was a small metal compartment.
Inside lay a black leather journal, a rusted wedding band, and a sealed envelope.
Dominic recognized the ring immediately.
Gabriel's.
He picked it up with shaking fingers.
For four years, he had imagined his brother's body in a burned car. He had wondered whether Gabriel had suffered, whether he had called for help, whether Dominic could have saved him.
Now he held the one object that proved Gabriel had been in this room.
Rachel handed him the envelope.
His name was written across the front.
For Dominic. If I cannot return home.
He tore it open.
Dom,
If you're reading this, then Father has won the first round.
I made a mistake trusting him to understand why I wanted to leave the family business. I thought he would be angry, but I never imagined he would try to destroy the woman I love.
Vanessa is innocent of the things Father will accuse her of. She doesn't know everything, and that's why she may lie to protect you. Don't punish her for being afraid.
Dominic stopped reading.
The letter continued.
I discovered that Father had been using our legitimate companies to move money through accounts belonging to people who were supposed to be dead. I found names, dates, payments, and signatures. One of those names belongs to a man who officially died before you were born.
I made copies.
I hid them where no one would think to look.
If I disappear, find the woman who wears the white rose.
The letter ended without a signature.
Dominic lowered it.
“Who wears the white rose?” he asked.
Rachel shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then she noticed the rusted wedding band.
It was engraved with a tiny white rose.
Dominic examined it.
The black rose had marked Gabriel's ring.
The white rose marked another.
Two rings.
Two symbols.
One family secret.
A faint sound came from the bathroom.
Marcus immediately drew his weapon.
“Boss, get back.”
He moved toward the doorway, checked the room, then signaled that the bathroom was clear.
Dominic entered.
A small ventilation panel had been removed. Behind it was a plastic-wrapped object, carefully wedged between two pipes.
He pulled it free.
A microcassette recorder.
The device looked decades old, but a red light blinked when he pressed the power button.
A voice emerged through the speaker.
Anthony Moretti's.
“Gabriel, you have until midnight to give me the documents.”
Another voice answered.
Gabriel.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then Vanessa dies first.”
Dominic went cold.
The recording continued.
Gabriel's voice became furious.
“You touch her, and I'll expose everything.”
A door slammed.
Footsteps followed.
Then Anthony spoke again, more quietly.
“You always were your mother's favorite.”
The recording ended with a sharp crash.
Dominic stared at the device.
His father had threatened Vanessa.
He had known about the documents.
And he had been willing to kill his own son to keep them hidden.
Marcus stepped into the bathroom.
“Sir, there's something else. The hotel manager says an employee accessed this room two nights ago.”
“Who?”
“A woman.”
“Name?”
Marcus looked toward Rachel.
“Evelyn Hayes.”
Rachel's face drained of color.
“My mother?”
“She signed the maintenance log under her maiden name.”
Dominic turned to her.
“Your mother came here two nights before she died?”
Rachel shook her head.
“That can't be right. She was in hospice. She couldn't walk without assistance.”
Marcus handed her a photocopy of the log.
Rachel stared at the signature.
It looked exactly like her mother's handwriting.
Then she noticed a second entry beneath it.
A name.
A date.
And a note that made her knees weaken.
ROOM 214 — RETURNED KEY TO OWNER: GABRIEL MORETTI.
The date was three weeks ago.
Dominic grabbed the paper.
Three weeks ago, Gabriel had officially been missing for four years.
Three weeks ago, someone had returned his key.
And according to the hotel record, Gabriel had signed for it himself.
Dominic turned toward the manager.
“Who gave you this?”
Peter Collins had gone pale.
“I didn't write that entry.”
“Then who did?”
The manager backed toward the door.
“I don't know.”
Marcus seized his arm.
Dominic stepped forward.
“Look at me. Who has access to this room?”
The manager's eyes darted toward Rachel.
Then he whispered, “The woman who wears the white rose.”
Dominic felt a chill move through him.
“Who is she?”
Peter swallowed.
“Your mother, sir.”
Dominic released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
His mother had been dead for twelve years.
Or so he had always been told.
May you like
Then the manager added one final sentence.
“She's been staying here under another name.”
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