Chapter 8 - The Night the Mansion Went Dark
At 8:40 that evening, every security camera in the east wing went black.
Not one at a time.
All at once.
Rocco called me from the security room.
"We have a breach."
I was already running.
The guesthouse door stood open, and the hallway lights flickered overhead. A female guard lay unconscious beside the staircase. Her weapon was missing.
Elena stood in the center of the bedroom, clutching Mia so tightly that the child could barely move.
"They came through the window," she said. "There were two of them."
"Did you see their faces?"
"One wore a mask. The other—"
She stopped.
"Elena?"
"Vivien."
My stomach dropped.
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know. She told me to give her the child. When I refused, she said she'd make sure we both regretted it."
Mia was crying silently against her mother's neck.
I crouched in front of her.
"Sweetheart, look at me."
She raised her face.
"Nobody is taking you anywhere."
She nodded, but her little body continued trembling.
I handed her to Rocco's wife, who had arrived to help with the security team. Then I took Elena aside.
"Did Vivien say why she wanted Mia?"
Elena swallowed.
"She said the little girl had something that belonged to your family."
"Did she mention Sofia?"
Elena nodded.
"She said Sofia had stolen something before she died."
I looked toward the window.
A narrow strip of mud marked the carpet. Whoever had entered had come from the garden, crossed the flower beds, and climbed through the window.
But the footprints told a different story.
There were three sets.
One pair belonged to a man wearing heavy boots. Another was smaller, probably Vivien's.
The third consisted of tiny, shallow marks near the bed.
I crouched to examine them.
They were not footprints.
They were the impressions left by a small wooden object dragged across the floor.
I followed the marks to the wardrobe.
Behind a row of coats lay a loose floorboard.
Beneath it sat a child's drawing.
A little girl had drawn a house, a woman, and a man holding hands. Beside the woman stood a second child, with a yellow star above her head.
On the back, in Sofia's handwriting, were the words:
When the little star comes home, give her the key.
Elena covered her mouth.
"She drew that before she died."
"Who?"
"Sofia."
I looked at the drawing again.
"Why would she hide this here?"
"Because she knew someone would search her belongings. She told me to hide anything that might help identify her daughter."
I picked up the paper.
"Did she ever give you a key?"
Elena hesitated.
Then she reached beneath the collar of her blouse and pulled out a thin chain.
A tiny brass key hung from it.
"I've worn it for four years."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know what it opened. Sofia told me never to give it to anyone unless I was certain the child was safe."
I took the key carefully.
For the first time, I understood why Vivien had spent three months frightening Elena.
The woman wasn't simply trying to silence a maid.
She was trying to recover something Sofia had entrusted to her.
And now she knew we had found it.
I called Rocco.
"Lock down the estate. Nobody leaves."
He answered immediately.
"Too late. Vivien's car is gone."
"Where's Caldwell?"
"His vehicle is missing too."
I looked at the drawing.
"Find their destination."
Within twenty minutes, Rocco had traced Vivien's car to a private airfield outside the city. A flight plan listed a departure for Maine at 10:15 p.m.
The destination was a small coastal town called Harborside.
Sofia had spent summers there as a child.
I called my pilot.
"How quickly can you get us there?"
"Forty minutes."
"Prepare the aircraft."
Rocco met me at the front entrance with two armed men.
"I'm coming."
"No."
"Lorenzo—"
"You're too close to this."
His face hardened.
"My daughter may be in that town."
"And if you lose control, you could get her killed."
He stepped toward me.
For a moment, I thought he might strike me.
Then his shoulders dropped.
"You're right."
I had never heard him say those words so quietly.
I put a hand on his shoulder.
"We'll bring her home."
Before we left, I returned to Mia's room.
She sat beside Elena, holding her rabbit. When she saw me, she climbed down from the bed and hurried toward me.
"Uncle Lorenzo?"
I knelt.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Is the bad lady coming back?"
I swallowed the anger rising in my throat.
"Not if I can help it."
She looked at the brass key in my hand.
Then she reached into the pocket of her red skirt and pulled out a tiny folded photograph.
"I found this in Mommy's box."
The photograph showed Sofia standing beside a young man.
Rocco.
But it wasn't the image that stopped me.
It was the child in Sofia's arms.
She had dark hair, gray eyes, and a tiny crescent-shaped birthmark beneath her left ear.
Mia touched the photograph.
"That's the little girl Vivien wants."
"Where did you find this?"
"In the room with the blue door."
I stared at her.
"What blue door?"
Mia pointed toward the far end of the corridor.
"The room Daddy said nobody could open."
I had no children.
I'd never had a daughter.
But there was one locked room in the mansion that I had forbidden anyone to enter.
My father's private archive.
And it had been sealed since the night Sofia died.
I looked at Rocco.
"Get the plane ready."
Then I turned back to Mia.
"Sweetheart, one more question."
She hugged her rabbit.
"Okay."
"Who told you about the blue door?"
Her eyes moved toward Elena.
Her mother began to cry.
Because the person who had told Mia about the room wasn't Vivien.
It was someone who had been living inside the mansion long before I ever met my fiancée.
May you like
Someone who knew exactly what was hidden behind that door.
My mother.
