CHAPTER 3 — THE ROOM BENEATH THE CONSERVATORY
CHAPTER 3 — THE ROOM BENEATH THE CONSERVATORY
For several seconds, Theodore could not move.
The voice had come from beneath the chapel.
A voice he had heard in childhood.
A voice he had heard at his father's funeral.
A voice that had disappeared from his life eighteen years ago.
His father's voice.
“Come inside, son.”
Theodore stared into the darkness beneath the stone staircase.
Victoria stood beside the crypt entrance without fear.
“You heard him,” she said.
Theodore swallowed.
“My father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“You said he was dead.”
“He is.”
“Then who is down there?”
Victoria didn't answer.
Theodore reached for his phone.
Victoria caught his wrist.
“Don't.”
He pulled away.
“You've threatened me twice tonight.”
“I've warned you twice.”
“There's a difference?”
“A warning gives you a chance to survive.”
Her expression hardened.
“A threat assumes you won't.”
Theodore stared at her.
“Where is Rosalie?”
“In the hospital.”
“Is she safe?”
“For the moment.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the people who wanted her dead don't know everything I know.”
Theodore looked toward the crypt.
“Who's down there?”
Victoria stepped aside.
“Go see.”
The Staircase
The staircase beneath the chapel was narrow.
Old stone walls pressed against Theodore's shoulders.
The air became colder with every step.
Behind him, Victoria followed silently.
At the bottom stood a wooden door.
No handle.
Only a small brass keyhole.
Victoria produced a key.
Theodore recognized it immediately.
It had belonged to his father.
He remembered seeing it on Edmund Vale's desk when he was a child.
“What is this place?”
Victoria inserted the key.
“The room where your family's secrets were kept.”
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Theodore stepped inside.
He stopped.
The room was enormous.
Not a crypt.
Not a storage room.
An archive.
Metal cabinets lined every wall.
Boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling.
Hundreds of files.
Photographs.
Bank statements.
Medical records.
Property deeds.
Passports.
Death certificates.
Birth certificates.
Names.
Dates.
Entire lives reduced to paper.
A single desk stood beneath a hanging lamp.
On the wall behind it was an old photograph.
Theodore walked closer.
It showed his father standing beside Eleanor.
Beside them were three other people.
Victoria.
Dr. Mercer.
And a young woman Theodore had never seen before.
He pointed.
“Who is she?”
Victoria looked at the photograph.
“Her name was Anna.”
“Was?”
“She disappeared in 2008.”
“Why?”
Victoria's expression changed.
“She discovered the room.”
Theodore looked around.
“And then?”
“She was declared mentally unstable.”
“By Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“She died.”
“How?”
Victoria didn't answer.
Theodore looked at the files.
“Where's her file?”
Victoria pointed to a cabinet.
“Third drawer.”
He opened it.
Inside was a thin folder.
Too thin.
Theodore flipped through it.
Psychiatric evaluations.
Hospital records.
A death certificate.
Then he found a photograph.
Anna standing beside a little girl.
Theodore's heart stopped.
He knew the child.
Rosalie.
The First Secret
“Rosalie knew her.”
Victoria nodded.
“Anna was her nanny.”
“Why didn't I know this?”
“Because your father dismissed her.”
“Why?”
“Because she found something she shouldn't have found.”
“What?”
Victoria looked at the floor.
“The original Vale Trust.”
Theodore turned.
“What trust?”
“The document that established the family fortune.”
He opened another file.
Inside was a yellowed legal document.
Theodore read the first page.
Then the second.
Then the third.
His expression changed.
“This can't be right.”
“It is.”
“Half of the family company wasn't owned by my father.”
“No.”
“Who owned it?”
Victoria pointed toward the bottom of the page.
Theodore read the name.
Rosalie Vale.
He stared.
“That's impossible.”
“She was six years old.”
“Exactly.”
“Your grandfather transferred ownership to her.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew Edmund couldn't be trusted.”
Theodore looked up.
“Then why does everyone think Edmund built the company?”
“Because he stole it.”
The room suddenly seemed smaller.
Theodore looked back at the document.
His father's signature was nowhere on the ownership transfer.
Only his grandfather's.
And below it was a clause.
The beneficiary shall retain ownership until death.
Theodore's voice was quiet.
“Rosalie owns the company.”
Victoria nodded.
“Legally.”
“Then why has she never known?”
“Because the original document disappeared.”
“Until now.”
“Yes.”
Theodore looked at Victoria.
“You kept it here.”
“I protected it.”
“From whom?”
Victoria answered immediately.
“Your father.”
Edmund Vale
Theodore turned toward her.
“You said my father was dead.”
“He is.”
“But you said his voice came from the crypt.”
Victoria nodded.
“That was a recording.”
Theodore froze.
“A recording?”
She smiled faintly.
“Your father planned everything.”
She walked toward the desk.
“He recorded messages for different circumstances.”
“He expected people to find this room.”
“Why?”
“Because he was obsessed with control.”
Victoria opened a drawer.
Inside were dozens of cassette tapes.
Each had a date.
Each had a name.
One was labeled:
THEODORE — AGE 12
Another:
SEBASTIAN — AGE 8
Another:
ROSALIE — AGE 6
Theodore stared.
“My father recorded us?”
“Everything.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted to know what his children would become.”
Theodore picked up Rosalie's tape.
“Did she ever hear this?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Edmund died before he could finish what he started.”
Theodore looked at her.
“What did he start?”
Victoria's expression became grim.
“Taking the company back from Rosalie.”
The Conservatory
Victoria led Theodore deeper into the archive.
At the far end was another door.
This one opened into a narrow passage.
Theodore recognized the walls.
“This leads to the conservatory.”
“Yes.”
He stared.
“The conservatory has a basement?”
“Not on any architectural plan.”
They walked through the passage.
The walls were covered in old pipes.
Then Theodore saw a metal staircase.
It descended into darkness.
He stopped.
“This is underneath the conservatory.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Victoria didn't answer.
Theodore descended.
At the bottom was a steel door.
There was a keypad.
Victoria entered a code.
The door opened.
Theodore stepped inside.
And stopped.
The Room Beneath the Conservatory
The room looked like a medical laboratory.
There was an examination table in the center.
Metal restraints were attached to its sides.
Shelves contained syringes and medication.
A medical monitor stood against one wall.
Another table held folders.
Theodore felt sick.
“This is where they brought Rosalie.”
Victoria nodded.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Who?”
“Mercer.”
“Eleanor?”
“Yes.”
“Sebastian?”
Victoria hesitated.
“Yes.”
Theodore's jaw tightened.
“What happened?”
“They believed Rosalie had discovered the trust.”
“What did they want?”
“Her signature.”
“On the transfer?”
“Yes.”
“Why kill her?”
“Because she refused.”
Theodore looked at the restraints.
“They tortured her?”
“No.”
Victoria looked away.
“They threatened her.”
“What did they threaten?”
“Her daughter.”
Theodore froze.
“Rosalie has a daughter?”
Victoria's face changed.
“No.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I mean they threatened the child Rosalie is pregnant with.”
Theodore stared.
“She isn't pregnant.”
Victoria looked at him.
“Yes.”
Theodore stepped backward.
“Rosalie can't have children.”
“She can.”
“How?”
“Because the fertility records were falsified.”
Theodore felt the room spin.
“Who did that?”
“Mercer.”
“Why?”
“To convince Rosalie she could never have a child.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
Victoria answered:
“Because her child would inherit everything.”
The Hidden Files
Theodore opened a folder.
Inside were medical records.
Rosalie's name.
Years of fertility treatments.
Multiple diagnoses.
Repeated statements:
LOW PROBABILITY OF CONCEPTION.
SEVERE REPRODUCTIVE DYSFUNCTION.
NATURAL PREGNANCY UNLIKELY.
Theodore looked at Victoria.
“These are fake.”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“I have the original records.”
She handed him another folder.
Theodore compared them.
The difference was horrifying.
Rosalie had never been infertile.
The medical records had been altered.
Medications had been prescribed that she didn't need.
Treatments had been delayed.
One procedure had been deliberately sabotaged.
Theodore's hands began shaking.
“My sister was never unable to have children.”
“No.”
“They made her believe she was.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because a pregnant Rosalie would become the legal mother of the next Vale heir.”
“And that child would inherit the trust.”
“Yes.”
Theodore stared at the medical table.
“So the pregnancy wasn't unexpected.”
Victoria shook her head.
“No.”
“They knew.”
“They planned for it.”
The Camera
Theodore noticed a small black device in the corner.
“A camera?”
“Yes.”
“Was it recording?”
“It always records.”
“Where are the files?”
Victoria pointed toward the wall.
“Behind that panel.”
Theodore opened it.
A hard drive was hidden inside.
He connected it to a laptop.
Hundreds of files appeared.
Dates.
Times.
Names.
Theodore opened the most recent recording.
The screen showed Rosalie lying on the examination table.
She was conscious.
Her wrists were restrained.
Mercer stood beside her.
Eleanor stood at the foot of the table.
Sebastian stood near the door.
Rosalie was crying.
“Please.”
Eleanor's voice was cold.
“Sign it.”
“No.”
“You don't understand what you're protecting.”
“My inheritance?”
“Our family.”
“No.”
Rosalie shook her head.
“You want my baby.”
Theodore stopped breathing.
Mercer looked toward Eleanor.
Eleanor stepped closer.
“You don't even know what that child will become.”
Rosalie stared at her.
“You're afraid of my baby.”
Eleanor's face hardened.
“Sign.”
“No.”
Eleanor nodded toward Mercer.
The doctor prepared a syringe.
Rosalie began struggling.
Then Sebastian moved.
“Mother, stop.”
Eleanor turned.
“You agreed.”
“I didn't agree to this.”
“You agreed to protect the family.”
“I agreed to scare her.”
“Not kill her.”
Mercer said:
“If we don't act now, the trust transfers automatically.”
Eleanor stared at Rosalie.
“Then make sure she doesn't wake up.”
Theodore slammed his fist against the desk.
“No.”
Victoria stood behind him.
“There is more.”
The Last Minute
Theodore continued watching.
Mercer injected Rosalie.
Her body relaxed.
Her eyes remained open.
She whispered:
“Sebastian.”
He looked at her.
“I am sorry.”
Then he walked out.
Eleanor remained.
She looked at Rosalie.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered:
“I never wanted this.”
Rosalie's eyes moved.
“You did.”
Eleanor leaned closer.
“I wanted to save you.”
“From what?”
Eleanor looked toward the camera.
Her face suddenly changed.
She knew she was being recorded.
“From him.”
Rosalie frowned.
“Who?”
Eleanor looked terrified.
Then the recording ended.
Theodore stared at the black screen.
“Who was she talking about?”
Victoria whispered:
“Edmund.”
“My father.”
“Yes.”
“But he's dead.”
Victoria nodded.
“That is what everyone believes.”
The Hidden Telephone
A telephone rang.
Theodore jumped.
It came from inside the room.
An old landline mounted beneath the desk.
Victoria didn't move.
Theodore picked it up.
“Hello?”
Static.
Then a man's voice.
“You've found the room.”
Theodore froze.
“Who is this?”
“You know.”
“My father?”
A low laugh.
“No.”
Theodore's blood chilled.
“Then who?”
The voice answered:
“The man your father worked for.”
Theodore looked at Victoria.
She had gone pale.
The voice continued.
“Rosalie was never the real target.”
Theodore tightened his grip on the receiver.
“Then who was?”
“You.”
The line went dead.
The Woman Who Lied
Theodore turned toward Victoria.
“You knew.”
She didn't answer.
“You knew I was the target.”
“I knew you were in danger.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Victoria looked at him.
“Your father believed you would eventually discover the truth.”
“Why?”
“Because you were the only one who questioned him.”
“And that's why?”
“He was afraid of what you would do.”
Theodore shook his head.
“My entire family has been lying to me.”
“Yes.”
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
“Sebastian.”
“Yes.”
“You.”
Victoria nodded.
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn't.”
The answer stunned him.
Victoria walked toward the door.
“You should trust the evidence.”
She stopped.
“And you should get back to the hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because Rosalie is no longer safe there.”
Theodore's phone rang.
A nurse's number.
He answered.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end was shaking.
“Mr. Vale?”
“Yes.”
“Your sister is missing.”
Theodore froze.
“What?”
“We stepped out for less than two minutes.”
“Where is she?”
“We don't know.”
“Lock the hospital down.”
“We already did.”
“Then find her!”
“We're trying.”
Theodore looked at Victoria.
She was already walking toward the exit.
“Where are you going?”
“To save her.”
“From whom?”
Victoria stopped.
Then she turned.
“From the person who just proved he can reach her anywhere.”
The Empty Hospital Room
Twenty minutes later, Theodore arrived at the hospital.
Rosalie's room was empty.
The bed was still warm.
Her IV line had been removed.
The monitor continued to beep.
A nurse stood in the hallway crying.
“I don't understand.”
“Who entered the room?”
“No one.”
“That's impossible.”
“The camera shows no one.”
Theodore stared at the security monitor.
The footage played.
Rosalie was lying in bed.
The room was empty.
Then the lights flickered.
For exactly three seconds.
When they returned, the bed was empty.
No door opened.
No person entered.
No alarm sounded.
Theodore looked at the technician.
“Show me the hallway.”
The technician switched cameras.
Nothing.
Then another screen flickered.
A maintenance corridor.
A man pushed a medical cart.
His face was hidden.
But the cart carried a small black case.
Theodore recognized it.
Mercer's medical case.
He turned.
“Find Mercer.”
A police officer shook his head.
“His room is empty.”
“Where is he?”
“We don't know.”
Theodore's phone buzzed.
A message.
One photograph.
Rosalie lying unconscious on a bed.
Her eyes closed.
Her wrists restrained.
Underneath was a single sentence:
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET HER DIE.
Theodore stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
NOW COME ALONE.
A location followed.
The old Vale estate.
The conservatory.
The same place where Rosalie had been buried alive.
Theodore looked toward the hospital doors.
He knew it was a trap.
He also knew he would go.
May you like
Because somewhere inside that house was his sister.
And this time, he would not be six hours too late.
