CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
THE EMPTY MANSION
Julian Rossi had spent eight months hating an empty house.
Tonight, for the first time, he wondered if the house had been lying to him.
The mansion stood at the top of the hill, surrounded by black iron gates and ancient cypress trees.
From the outside, nothing had changed.
The same white stone walls.
The same enormous windows.
The same fountain in the center of the driveway.
The same lights glowing softly behind the curtains.
It was the kind of house that looked beautiful from a distance.
Julian had once called it home.
Tonight, it looked like a crime scene.
He stepped out of the car at 3:17 a.m.
He didn't wait for the security guard to open the door.
He entered himself.
“Sir?”
Julian ignored him.
“Mr. Rossi?”
“Go home.”
“But—”
“Now.”
The guard hesitated.
Then obeyed.
Julian walked through the foyer.
Every sound echoed.
His shoes against marble.
His breathing.
The ticking of the antique clock.
Eight months ago, Elena had stood right there.
He remembered it now.
She had been wearing a cream-colored dress.
Her hair had been wet from the rain.
She had looked terrified.
Julian had been angry.
They had argued.
He had accused her of hiding something.
She had cried.
And then she had disappeared.
At the time, Julian remembered only the ending.
The empty bedroom.
The missing clothes.
The letter.
But now that he knew someone had threatened her, he wanted to remember everything.
Every word.
Every movement.
Every detail.
He walked toward the staircase.
Then stopped.
There was a scratch on the marble floor.
A long, narrow mark.
Almost invisible beneath the chandelier.
Julian crouched.
He touched it.
He remembered seeing it eight months ago.
He had assumed it was caused by furniture.
Now he wasn't so sure.
He followed the scratch toward Elena's bedroom.
The door was closed.
Julian opened it.
The room was exactly as he remembered.
Too exactly.
Her perfume still stood on the vanity.
Her books remained arranged by height.
Her favorite silk scarf hung over the back of a chair.
The bed was made.
The curtains were closed.
Nothing looked disturbed.
But there was one problem.
Julian had been told Elena packed everything.
He had believed she had taken almost all her belongings.
Yet the room was full of them.
Her passport case.
Her jewelry box.
Her winter clothes.
Her wedding dress.
Her childhood photographs.
Even the small stuffed rabbit she had kept since she was nine.
Why would a woman planning to disappear leave all this behind?
Julian opened the wardrobe.
Most of her clothes were still there.
He touched one of the dresses.
A memory surfaced.
Elena wearing it at their wedding anniversary.
She had laughed when he told her she looked beautiful.
“You've told me that a thousand times.”
“And I'll tell you a thousand more.”
She had kissed him.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Julian closed his eyes.
His throat tightened.
He had spent eight months convincing himself that she had never loved him.
But the evidence around him suggested something else.
She hadn't left willingly.
He opened the drawers.
Nothing.
Then the final drawer caught.
Julian pulled harder.
The drawer opened halfway.
Something was blocking it.
He reached inside.
His fingers touched paper.
He pulled out a small envelope.
No name.
No address.
Only a date.
The date Elena disappeared.
Julian opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Elena.
Standing beside a car.
She looked frightened.
Behind her stood Richard.
Julian's father.
But that wasn't the strange part.
Someone else was in the photograph.
A man Julian didn't recognize.
The man was holding Elena's arm.
Julian turned the photograph over.
Three words were written on the back.
HE KNOWS EVERYTHING.
Julian stared.
“Who?”
The room remained silent.
He placed the photograph on the bed.
Then something caught his eye.
A tiny dark stain on the carpet.
He knelt.
Blood.
Old.
Almost completely faded.
Julian's stomach tightened.
He remembered that night.
There had been blood.
He had seen it.
But his father had told him Elena had cut her hand while packing.
Julian had believed him.
Now he walked toward the bathroom.
The floor had been replaced.
Fresh marble.
New tiles.
New sink.
New mirror.
Why?
He called the estate manager.
“Mr. Bell.”
The man answered sleepily.
“Yes, sir?”
“When was Elena's bathroom renovated?”
Silence.
“Mr. Bell.”
“I don't know, sir.”
“Think.”
“I believe it was after Mrs. Rossi left.”
“Who ordered it?”
Another pause.
“Your father.”
Julian's blood ran cold.
“Why?”
“I wasn't told.”
“Who supervised the work?”
“I don't remember.”
“Find out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Julian ended the call.
Then he noticed something beneath the sink.
A loose tile.
He pulled it.
Behind it was a narrow compartment.
Inside lay a small black USB drive.
Julian stared.
His heart began pounding.
He took it upstairs.
His hands shook as he connected it to his laptop.
There was one folder.
ELENA
Inside were twelve files.
The first was a video.
Julian clicked it.
Elena appeared on the screen.
She was sitting on the floor of their bedroom.
Her face was swollen from crying.
Her voice trembled.
“If Julian is watching this…”
She stopped.
Took a breath.
“If you are watching this, then I didn't make it back.”
Julian froze.
“What?”
Elena continued.
“I need you to know something.”
She looked directly into the camera.
“I did not leave you.”
Julian's eyes filled with tears.
“I would never leave without saying goodbye.”
She wiped her face.
“Someone is forcing me to disappear.”
Julian leaned closer.
“I can't tell you who yet because they are watching everything.”
Elena looked toward the bedroom door.
Then whispered:
“Your father knows.”
Julian's heart slammed against his ribs.
“He knows about the baby.”
The video suddenly distorted.
Static.
Then Elena reappeared.
Her voice was quieter.
“If anything happens to me, protect our child.”
Julian stopped breathing.
“Our child.”
The words echoed.
Then Elena said something that made him sit upright.
“Do not trust the woman named Camila.”
The screen went black.
Julian stared at it.
He replayed the video.
Again.
And again.
Each time, the same result.
The recording ended exactly forty-three seconds after mentioning Camila.
He opened the next file.
A photograph.
Then another.
Then another.
Elena had been investigating someone.
Bank transfers.
Hotel records.
Photographs of Richard meeting unknown men.
And finally—
a document.
Julian opened it.
His face went pale.
It was a legal agreement.
A divorce agreement.
His name was on it.
Elena's name was on it.
But neither had signed it.
At the bottom was a clause Julian had never seen.
Upon dissolution of marriage, all marital assets shall transfer to the designated Rossi family beneficiary.
Julian stared.
Who was the beneficiary?
He scrolled down.
His blood ran cold.
Camila Moretti.
“No.”
He stood so quickly the chair fell backward.
Camila.
His girlfriend.
The woman he had been dating for four months.
The woman who had apparently entered his life after Elena disappeared.
The woman Elena had warned him about.
Julian's phone rang.
His father.
He stared at the screen.
Then answered.
“What did you do?”
Richard's voice remained calm.
“You should have stayed at the hotel.”
“Did you threaten Elena?”
Silence.
“Answer me.”
“You've been investigating.”
“You forged divorce documents.”
“Julian—”
“You tried to take my assets.”
“I was protecting the family.”
“You put Camila in my life.”
Richard sighed.
“You're making this more complicated than it is.”
Julian's voice became cold.
“What happened to my mother?”
Silence.
Julian stopped breathing.
“Dad.”
No answer.
“Is she alive?”
Richard finally spoke.
“You don't know what you're asking.”
“I am asking if my mother is alive.”
Another silence.
Then Richard said:
“You should stop digging.”
Julian's hand tightened around the phone.
“Why?”
“Because Elena isn't the only person who can disappear.”
The call ended.
Julian stood frozen.
Then he looked at the photograph on his desk.
Elena.
Pregnant.
Frightened.
Running from someone.
He suddenly understood why she had chosen the Grand Alcazar.
It wasn't because she wanted to hide from him.
It was because she wanted to stay somewhere she knew he would eventually find her.
She had left him clues.
Not because she wanted him gone.
Because she wanted him to follow.
Julian grabbed his coat.
He was halfway to the door when he heard something.
A soft sound.
From downstairs.
He stopped.
The mansion was supposed to be empty.
He slowly descended the staircase.
The sound came again.
A drawer opening.
Someone was inside his house.
Julian reached the bottom of the stairs.
A shadow moved across the study.
He walked toward it.
“Who's there?”
Silence.
He opened the study door.
Nobody.
But the window was open.
Curtains moved in the wind.
Julian rushed toward the desk.
The blue folder was gone.
The one Elena had told him to find.
Someone had entered the house while he was watching the recording.
Someone knew exactly what he had discovered.
Then Julian noticed a single object on the desk.
A silver hairpin.
Elena's.
He picked it up.
She had worn it on their wedding day.
Julian stared at it.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
One sentence.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE PAST BURIED.
Julian typed:
WHO ARE YOU?
The response arrived immediately.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHAT HAPPENED TO ELENA'S FIRST BABY.
Julian's face went white.
His fingers stopped moving.
First baby?
Elena had never told him about another pregnancy.
He searched his memory.
There had been a night, years ago, when Elena had collapsed during a charity event.
She had told him she was exhausted.
He had believed her.
The next morning, she had refused to talk about it.
Was that why?
Julian felt sick.
He called Adrian Vale.
No answer.
He called again.
Still nothing.
Then his phone rang.
This time it was the hospital.
“Mr. Rossi?”
“Yes.”
“This is St. Catherine's Medical Center.”
Julian's heart began pounding.
“How can I help you?”
“We found an old patient record.”
“What record?”
The woman hesitated.
“Mrs. Elena Rossi.”
Julian closed his eyes.
“What about it?”
“There is something unusual in her medical history.”
“What?”
“She was admitted here six years ago.”
Julian's voice dropped.
“Why?”
The woman paused.
“She was pregnant.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“How long?”
“Approximately eleven weeks.”
Julian gripped the desk.
“What happened?”
“She lost the pregnancy.”
He couldn't speak.
Then the woman added:
“But that's not the strange part.”
Julian swallowed.
“What is?”
“She wasn't alone.”
His heart stopped.
“Who was with her?”
The woman checked the record.
Then said:
“Richard Rossi.”
Julian closed his eyes.
His father.
Again.
Always his father.
And suddenly, the empty mansion no longer felt empty.
It felt full of ghosts.
Every room contained a lie.
Every photograph concealed a secret.
Every memory had been rewritten by someone who wanted Julian to believe Elena had betrayed him.
But she hadn't.
She had been protecting him.
Protecting their unborn child.
And perhaps—
protecting him from a secret that had begun six years before he ever knew there was anything to fear.
Julian looked at Elena's photograph one last time.
Then whispered:
“I'll find you.”
He didn't know whether she could hear him.
But somewhere across the city, inside a small room at the Grand Alcazar, Elena sat awake with one hand over her stomach.
She looked at the clock.
3:51 a.m.
Her eyes filled with tears.
She whispered:
“Please be careful, Julian.”
Then someone knocked on her door.
Three slow knocks.
Elena froze.
A man's voice came from the other side.
“Mrs. Rossi.”
She knew that voice.
Her face went pale.
“Open the door.”
Elena stepped backward.
The man spoke again.
“We know Julian has found the recording.”
Elena's hand moved protectively over her stomach.
“Open the door.”
She looked toward the window.
There was nowhere to run.
The man smiled behind the door.
“And this time…”
His voice became colder.
“…we're not going to threaten you.”
Elena's breathing stopped.
“We're going to take your child.”
The lights went out.
May you like
And somewhere across the city, Julian's phone received one final message.
YOU HAVE UNTIL MORNING.
