Chapter 3 - The Room Nobody EnteredHarlan offered me money.
I refused.
He offered me a job.
I refused.
He offered to pay my rent.
I refused again.
Then Belle asked me to stay.
That was the problem.
Because I couldn't say no to her.
I became a temporary caregiver while Belle recovered.
Harlan's mansion was enormous.
Too enormous.
Thirty rooms.
Private elevators.
Security cameras everywhere.
Men with earpieces.
A kitchen larger than my apartment.
And yet Belle's bedroom was the saddest room in the house.
It was filled with expensive toys.
None of them looked loved.
I understood why.
Belle's mother had died when she was two.
Since then, Harlan had turned the mansion into a fortress.
But a fortress wasn't a home.
On my third night, Belle asked:
“Why doesn't Daddy sleep?”
I didn't know.
“He works.”
“He's sad.”
I looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because he thinks nobody sees him.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Later that night, I found Harlan in the library.
He was standing beside a locked cabinet.
“You should be sleeping.”
“So should you.”
He looked at me.
“Belle said you're afraid of me.”
“I said you're terrifying.”
“Difference?”
“Terrifying people can still be decent.”
He smiled faintly.
“Do you think I'm decent?”
“I don't know you.”
“You should keep it that way.”
He walked away.
I almost did.
Then I noticed the cabinet.
A photograph sat beside it.
A woman.
Beautiful.
Young.
Belle's mother.
And beside her—
another man.
I recognized him.
Marcus Voss.
Harlan's younger brother.
I'd seen his face in newspaper articles.
Dead five years.
Supposedly killed in a warehouse explosion.
I looked closer.
The photograph had been folded.
Someone had written something on the back.
Harlan, if anything happens to me, don't trust Victor.
Victor.
Harlan's closest adviser.
The man everyone called his right hand.
I heard footsteps.
I turned.
Harlan stood in the doorway.
He saw the photograph in my hand.
His face went cold.
“Where did you get that?”
“It was here.”
“Give it to me.”
I did.
He stared at the writing.
Then at me.
“Who told you about Victor?”
“No one.”
His expression hardened.
“Rue.”
“I don't know what you're involved in.”
He stepped closer.
“But I know Belle was nearly killed.”
Silence.
Then I said:
“I think whoever hurt your daughter may be connected to your brother's death.”
Harlan went completely still.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then he whispered:
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“I hope I'm wrong.”
May you like
He looked at the photograph.
“So do I.”
Related Stories
