Chapter 6 — The Key Under the Floor
Chapter 6 — The Key Under the Floor
The morning after Margaret Ellis was found dead, Alessandro woke to the sound of someone crying.
Not loudly.
Not hysterically.
Just a soft, broken sound coming from the hallway.
He opened his bedroom door.
Sophia stood there.
She was pale, exhausted, and still wearing the coat she had arrived in the night before.
“Where's Emma?”
“She's with Rosa.”
Sophia nodded.
Then she looked at Alessandro.
“You shouldn't have brought her here.”
“I didn't bring her here.”
“She came because she had no one else.”
“She has me now.”
Sophia looked away.
“That is exactly what I'm afraid of.”
Alessandro frowned.
“Why?”
“Because everyone who gets close to this family gets hurt.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
“You survived because you protected Emma.”
Sophia's eyes filled with tears.
“I didn't protect her enough.”
“What happened?”
She shook her head.
“I should have told you everything sooner.”
“You can start now.”
Sophia looked toward the east wing.
“Your father hid something beneath the house.”
“We already found the nursery.”
“No.”
She lowered her voice.
“Something else.”
Alessandro's attention sharpened.
“What?”
“A key.”
“What key?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how do you know it exists?”
“Because Daniel gave it to me.”
Alessandro stared at her.
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The night he came to my apartment after everyone thought he was dead.”
“Where is it?”
Sophia hesitated.
“I buried it.”
“Where?”
“Inside this house.”
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because Daniel told me that if I ever needed to prove who Emma really was, the key would lead to the evidence.”
“Where did you hide it?”
Sophia looked at him.
“Under the floor.”
The east wing had been sealed since the previous night.
Two guards stood outside.
Alessandro dismissed them.
He, Sophia, Marco, Elena, and Rosa entered together.
Emma remained downstairs.
The old nursery was quiet.
Almost peaceful.
It was difficult to believe the room had once been at the center of a conspiracy involving murder, money, and a missing heir.
Sophia walked toward the old crib.
She stopped beside it.
“Here.”
Alessandro looked down.
“Where?”
She pointed toward the floor.
“Third board from the wall.”
Marco immediately crouched.
He lifted the board.
Nothing.
Sophia's face changed.
“No.”
“What?”
“It was here.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“You're certain?”
“Yes.”
Marco examined the surrounding floor.
“There are marks.”
He pointed toward the wood.
Someone had recently removed the board.
Then replaced it.
Alessandro's expression hardened.
“Someone found the key.”
Sophia stepped backward.
“No.”
Rosa whispered:
“Then they know where the door is.”
Alessandro turned.
“What door?”
Rosa looked frightened.
“The one beneath the house.”
Silence.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“You all knew something existed beneath my house.”
Rosa looked down.
“Your father made us swear never to speak about it.”
Alessandro's patience snapped.
“My father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“And every secret he buried is killing people.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“Where is the entrance?”
Rosa looked toward the fireplace.
“Behind it.”
Marco moved immediately.
He examined the stonework.
Nothing appeared unusual.
Then Emma's voice came from the doorway.
“There's a button.”
Everyone turned.
She stood there holding her stuffed rabbit.
Alessandro frowned.
“Emma, I told you to stay downstairs.”
“I wanted to see Mom.”
Sophia hurried toward her.
But Emma pointed toward the fireplace.
“There.”
A small brass button was hidden beneath the carved edge.
Alessandro pressed it.
Nothing happened.
Marco tried.
Still nothing.
Emma stepped forward.
“Maybe it needs a key.”
Alessandro looked at her.
Then at the floor.
Then at the fireplace.
He remembered his father's voice from the recording.
The nursery has been opened.
Not entered.
Opened.
Alessandro touched the brass button again.
This time he pressed it while pulling the fireplace handle.
A deep mechanical sound echoed beneath them.
The entire fireplace shifted.
Behind it was a narrow stone staircase.
Cold air rose from below.
Emma's face changed.
“Is that where the house keeps its secrets?”
Alessandro looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Are we going?”
He hesitated.
“No.”
Emma frowned.
“Why?”
“Because it could be dangerous.”
She looked at him seriously.
“Then why are you going?”
Alessandro almost smiled.
“Because I'm an adult.”
Emma considered that.
“Adults can get hurt too.”
“Yes.”
“Then take Marco.”
Marco coughed quietly.
“I was planning to.”
The staircase descended farther than Alessandro expected.
Twenty steps.
Thirty.
Forty.
At the bottom was a steel door.
No handle.
Only a keyhole.
Sophia stopped.
“This is it.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“Where's the key?”
She shook her head.
“I don't have it anymore.”
“Who took it?”
“I don't know.”
He examined the lock.
Old.
Heavy.
Custom-made.
Marco touched it.
“This wasn't built recently.”
“How old?”
“Maybe twenty years.”
Alessandro looked at the door.
His grandfather had disappeared in 1998.
The door had been built around that time.
He understood.
“This is where he kept the evidence.”
Sophia nodded.
“Daniel believed so.”
“Then someone has been inside.”
“Why?”
“Because the key is gone.”
Marco pointed toward the lock.
“There are fresh scratches.”
Alessandro's expression hardened.
“Someone opened this recently.”
He reached into his pocket.
“Then let's see what they missed.”
Marco pulled out a small set of tools.
After several minutes, the lock clicked.
The door opened.
A smell of damp paper filled the corridor.
Beyond it was a room.
Not large.
But packed with shelves.
Boxes.
Ledgers.
Photographs.
Hard drives.
Bank documents.
Passports.
Alessandro stepped inside.
“This is it.”
Rosa whispered:
“Your grandfather's archive.”
Alessandro turned.
“You knew about this?”
“No.”
“But you knew the room existed.”
“I knew your father was afraid of it.”
“Why?”
“Because he couldn't destroy what was inside.”
Alessandro began opening boxes.
The first contained financial records.
The second contained photographs.
The third contained legal documents.
Then he found a black folder.
On the front were two initials.
L.M.
Luca Moretti.
He opened it.
Inside was a letter.
His grandfather had written it.
If Luca ever discovers this archive, he must be stopped.
Alessandro read the next line.
The boy cannot know.
He frowned.
“What boy?”
Marco leaned over.
Then saw the next page.
Alessandro.
The room went silent.
Alessandro continued reading.
My grandson is the only person in this family who has never been corrupted by the truth.
His hand tightened around the paper.
That is why he must never know what his father has done.
Alessandro stopped.
“What did my father do?”
No one answered.
He turned another page.
And his blood went cold.
A photograph showed his father standing beside Victor Hale.
Beside them stood Luca.
And behind them—
Aurelio Moretti.
Alive.
The photograph was dated six years after the date everyone believed Aurelio had died.
Alessandro stared.
“My grandfather was alive.”
Elena stepped closer.
“I told you.”
“But this is proof.”
She nodded.
“Now you know.”
“No.”
Alessandro pointed at the photograph.
“Where was this taken?”
Elena looked.
“That's the old estate.”
“My father told me he sold it.”
“He lied.”
Alessandro looked at the photograph again.
His grandfather was holding a baby.
A newborn.
Emma.
Sophia gasped.
“No.”
Alessandro turned.
“What?”
Sophia stared at the photograph.
“That wasn't Emma.”
Elena stepped closer.
Her face became pale.
“It was.”
“No.”
Sophia shook her head.
“Emma was with me that night.”
“Then who is the baby?”
No one spoke.
Alessandro looked at the photograph.
Then at Elena.
Then at Sophia.
A terrible possibility entered his mind.
“There were two babies.”
Sophia's face collapsed.
“Yes.”
Alessandro stared.
“Twins?”
Elena nodded slowly.
“Emma had a twin sister.”
The room seemed to lose oxygen.
Alessandro looked at the photograph.
Two newborns.
One was Emma.
The other—
missing.
“Where is she?”
Elena didn't answer.
“Where is Emma's sister?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew she existed.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
Elena began crying.
“She was taken.”
“By whom?”
“My father.”
Alessandro's voice became colder.
“Why?”
“Because he believed one child would inherit the family fortune.”
“And the other?”
“He intended to use her as leverage.”
Sophia covered her mouth.
“I thought she died.”
Elena looked at her.
“So did I.”
Alessandro stared at the photograph.
Two babies.
Two lives.
One family secret.
Then Marco noticed something.
“Boss.”
He pointed at the photograph.
There was writing on the back.
Alessandro turned it over.
GIRL ONE — EMMA
GIRL TWO — ELIZA
Underneath was another line.
TRANSFERRED TO THE HAWTHORNE FAMILY.
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
“Hawthorne.”
Marco immediately searched his database.
“There's a wealthy family by that name.”
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
Alessandro's phone rang.
He answered.
A man's voice spoke.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Who is this?”
“You found the archive.”
Alessandro's face hardened.
“Victor.”
“No.”
A pause.
“Someone worse.”
“Who?”
“You've been asking the wrong questions.”
“Then give me the right ones.”
The voice laughed.
“You think Emma is the only child you need to protect.”
Alessandro's grip tightened.
“Where is Eliza?”
“You're close.”
“Tell me.”
“She is closer than you think.”
The line went dead.
Marco looked at him.
“Trace it?”
“Working on it.”
Alessandro turned toward the others.
“Find everything about the Hawthorne family.”
Three hours later, Marco returned.
“We found Eliza.”
Alessandro looked up.
“Where?”
“New York.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Age?”
“Six.”
Alessandro's heart stopped.
“Six?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Marco placed a photograph on the table.
A little girl stood outside a private school.
Brown hair.
Brown eyes.
A familiar expression.
Alessandro stared.
She looked exactly like Emma.
But something else caught his attention.
The girl was holding a small stuffed rabbit.
The same kind Emma carried.
He whispered:
“She has the same rabbit.”
Marco nodded.
“There's more.”
“What?”
“She attends school under the name Eliza Hawthorne.”
“Who are her parents?”
“Jonathan and Claire Hawthorne.”
“And the family?”
“Extremely wealthy.”
“Connections?”
Marco hesitated.
“To Victor Hale.”
Alessandro's face hardened.
“So Victor has been protecting her.”
“Apparently.”
“Or controlling her.”
“Yes.”
Alessandro looked at the photograph.
A six-year-old girl who had no idea that another little girl in Manhattan shared her blood.
A family that had stolen her identity.
A fortune that belonged to both children.
And someone who had spent six years making sure the sisters never met.
Then Emma walked into the room.
She saw the photograph.
“Who's that?”
Alessandro quickly covered it.
“No one.”
Emma frowned.
“You're lying.”
Alessandro froze.
She had learned that word from adults.
He looked at her.
“It's complicated.”
“Is she a girl?”
“Yes.”
“Does she live here?”
“No.”
“Does she have a mommy?”
“Yes.”
Emma thought about it.
Then asked:
“Does she have a daddy?”
Alessandro hesitated.
“I don't know.”
Emma looked at him.
“Then maybe she's lonely.”
His heart broke.
“Yes.”
Emma reached for the photograph.
Alessandro let her take it.
She stared.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then her eyes widened.
“She looks like me.”
Alessandro swallowed.
“Yes.”
Emma touched the photograph.
“Is she my sister?”
No one answered.
That was answer enough.
Emma looked at Alessandro.
“You found her.”
“Yes.”
“Can we see her?”
Alessandro nodded.
“We will.”
Emma smiled.
But before he could say anything else, the mansion alarm screamed.
Every light turned red.
Marco's radio exploded with voices.
“East gate breached!”
“Security down!”
“Multiple vehicles!”
Alessandro grabbed Emma.
Elena moved beside them.
Sophia stepped forward.
“What's happening?”
Marco looked at Alessandro.
“They're here.”
“Who?”
Marco's face was grim.
“The Hawthornes.”
A second alarm sounded.
Then a voice came through the mansion intercom.
Calm.
Female.
Familiar.
“Alessandro.”
He froze.
It was Margaret Ellis's voice.
Impossible.
Margaret was dead.
The voice continued.
“You found the key.”
Alessandro stared at the speaker.
“Who are you?”
A soft laugh answered.
“The woman who has been protecting Emma since the night she was born.”
Sophia's face went white.
“Elena…”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
The voice continued.
“And now you have something that belongs to me.”
Alessandro looked at the photograph of Eliza.
“What?”
“The other girl.”
The lights suddenly went out.
Emma grabbed his hand.
Then, from somewhere upstairs, came the sound of a child screaming.
Not Emma.
Another child.
A little girl.
Alessandro looked at Elena.
Her face had gone completely white.
“That's impossible.”
“What?”
Elena whispered:
“Eliza is here.”
The scream came again.
Closer.
And Alessandro realized the truth.
May you like
The Hawthornes hadn't come to take Emma.
They had come to take her sister.
