Chapter 2 - The Door Nobody Used
Adrian pushed through the crowd with Sophie in his arms. Marcus followed, smiling too brightly at the guests.
“It's a child's imagination,” Marcus hissed. “You're embarrassing the family.”
“Then open the door.”
“That wing has been sealed since the fire.”
“Open it.”
Rosa hurried after them. “Mr. Vale, please. Not here.”
Adrian turned. “You heard her. Tell me what she means.”
Rosa's lips trembled. “I promised someone I wouldn't.”
“Who?”
A crash rang out from the service hall. The man in gray had dropped a tray and was now sprinting for the back exit. Adrian handed Sophie to Rosa and chased him through the kitchen. The stranger shoved a cook aside, hit the emergency bar, and vanished into the rain.
On the floor lay a brass key with blue paint in its grooves.
Adrian returned, breathing hard. Sophie was crying against Rosa's shoulder.
“Daddy,” she whispered, “the man told Mommy not to scream.”
Rosa's knees buckled. Adrian caught her before she struck the marble.
She pressed something into his palm: a folded piece of paper, stained at the edges.
The east wing had been Evelyn's favorite part of the house. She painted the nursery there herself, refusing the designer's suggestion of beige walls. There had been blue doors, blue birds, and a ridiculous blue moon on the ceiling. After the fire, Marcus hired contractors to wall off the corridor. Adrian had signed the invoices without reading them. He'd been taking sleeping pills and waking up to Sophie's cries.
He tried the brass handle. Locked. Marcus said the key had been destroyed, but the metal around the lock was polished, not dusty. Somebody had been using it. 'Who authorized a new lock?' Adrian demanded. Marcus stepped closer, lowering his voice. 'Don't do this in front of your child.' Adrian glanced at Sophie. She was studying her uncle with the wary concentration children reserve for adults who have lied to them before.
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For the first time that night, Adrian understood that the danger wasn't a memory hidden behind a door. It was standing beside him, wearing his brother's face. He scooped Sophie up, feeling her heart hammer through the satin dress. 'You can tell me anything,' he whispered. She pressed her mouth to his ear. 'I tried before, Daddy. Uncle Marcus said you'd get sick again if I told.'
On it, in Evelyn's unmistakable handwriting, were five words: DON'T TRUST THE DEATH CERTIFICATE.
