CHAPTER 4 — THE FIRST WOMAN THEY BURIED
CHAPTER 4 — THE FIRST WOMAN THEY BURIED
The old Vale estate looked different at night.
Not smaller.
Not darker.
More honest.
During the day, the mansion had always appeared beautiful—white stone, enormous windows, manicured gardens, fountains that never stopped running.
At night, every window looked like a black eye.
Theodore parked beyond the main gate and switched off the headlights.
The message on his phone remained open.
COME ALONE.
Below it was the photograph of Rosalie.
Unconscious.
Restrained.
Alive.
He stared at the image for several seconds.
Then he put the phone into his pocket.
He had promised himself he would never walk into another trap without backup.
But this wasn't about him.
It was Rosalie.
His sister.
The woman he had almost buried because he had trusted the wrong people.
He stepped out of the car.
Rain soaked his coat almost immediately.
Behind him, hidden several hundred yards away, two police vehicles remained parked with their lights off.
Theodore had lied.
He had not come alone.
He had also sent the photograph to Sebastian.
No response.
That frightened him more than the message.
Sebastian should have answered.
Unless he couldn't.
Theodore walked toward the house.
The conservatory doors were open.
Warm yellow light spilled across the wet stone.
He stopped at the entrance.
“Rosalie?”
Nothing.
He stepped inside.
The coffin was still there.
Empty.
Flowers surrounded it.
Some had begun to wilt.
Theodore looked at the satin interior.
A faint brown stain remained where Rosalie's blood had dried.
His hands clenched.
Then he heard something.
A tap.
From beneath the floor.
Once.
Twice.
Then silence.
Theodore looked down.
The conservatory floor was marble.
Beautiful white marble.
He remembered Victoria's words.
There is a room beneath the conservatory.
He moved toward the center.
Another sound.
Three taps.
Not from the walls.
From underneath him.
Someone was knocking.
The Hidden Door
Theodore searched the floor.
Nothing.
He checked beneath the coffin.
Nothing.
Then he noticed a narrow line between two marble tiles.
A seam.
He knelt.
Pressed his fingers against it.
The tile moved.
A small metal ring appeared beneath.
He pulled.
A section of flooring lifted.
Darkness opened below.
A staircase.
Theodore took out his flashlight.
The steps descended farther than he expected.
He began walking.
One step.
Two.
Three.
The air became colder.
Then he smelled something familiar.
Disinfectant.
The same bitter chemical smell from the broken vial.
He reached the bottom.
A corridor stretched ahead.
On the walls were old photographs.
Women.
Dozens of them.
Some smiling.
Some posing beside Vale family members.
Some with children.
Some wearing wedding dresses.
Theodore stopped at the first photograph.
A name was written beneath it.
ELISE MORROW — 1998
Another.
NATALIE GRAY — 2001
Another.
MARA BELL — 2004
Then another.
ANNA REED — 2008
Theodore stared.
The same woman from the photograph in the archive.
Rosalie's former nanny.
He walked closer.
Someone had drawn a black line across Anna's face.
Below it was written:
REMOVED.
Theodore's stomach tightened.
He continued down the corridor.
There were more names.
More women.
More dates.
And beside each name was the same word.
REMOVED.
He reached the final photograph.
There was no name.
Only a handwritten note.
THE FIRST WOMAN TO REMEMBER.
Theodore touched the photograph.
The door behind him slammed shut.
He spun around.
Locked.
Then a voice came through a speaker.
“You should have stayed at the hospital.”
Theodore recognized it.
Mercer.
“Where is my sister?”
Silence.
“Where is Rosalie?”
A click.
Then Mercer answered.
“She isn't here.”
Theodore's jaw tightened.
“You sent me this message.”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I don't know.”
“Where are you?”
Another silence.
Then Mercer whispered:
“Run.”
Theodore heard footsteps behind the wall.
Multiple footsteps.
He turned.
A door opened at the end of the corridor.
A woman walked through.
She was carrying a lantern.
Theodore raised his flashlight.
“Who are you?”
The woman stopped.
She was old.
Her hair was completely white.
Her face was thin.
But her eyes were sharp.
She looked at him for several seconds.
Then said:
“You're Edmund's son.”
Theodore froze.
“Who are you?”
She smiled sadly.
“My name is Anna.”
The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Theodore couldn't speak.
Anna Reed.
The woman whose death certificate he had seen.
The woman who supposedly died in 2008.
The woman his family had told everyone was mentally unstable.
She was standing in front of him.
Alive.
“You're Anna.”
“Yes.”
“You've been alive this entire time?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I learned how to disappear.”
Theodore stared.
“What happened to you?”
Anna looked down the corridor.
“Your father happened.”
“Edmund?”
“Yes.”
“He's dead.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you afraid of him?”
Anna's expression changed.
“Because dead men can still destroy people.”
She walked toward a door.
“Come.”
Theodore followed.
Inside was a small room.
A table.
Two chairs.
A kettle.
Stacks of documents.
Anna closed the door.
“You came for Rosalie.”
“Yes.”
“She isn't here.”
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
Theodore's anger rose.
“Everyone keeps telling me they don't know.”
Anna looked at him.
“Because nobody knows where she was taken.”
“Then how do you know she's alive?”
“Because I know who took her.”
“Who?”
Anna placed a photograph on the table.
A man stood beside a black vehicle.
His face was partly hidden.
But Theodore recognized him.
His stomach dropped.
“That's Sebastian.”
Anna nodded.
“No.”
Theodore shook his head.
“My brother wouldn't do this.”
“He already did.”
“He was trying to save her.”
“He was trying to save himself.”
Theodore stared at the photograph.
“Explain.”
Anna sat down.
“Your family has been protecting a secret for eighteen years.”
“What secret?”
“Rosalie isn't the first woman they tried to bury.”
Theodore looked at her.
“No.”
Anna nodded.
“I was.”
2008
Anna began speaking.
Eighteen years earlier, she had worked for the Vale family.
Not as a maid.
Not as a nanny.
As a private records administrator.
She handled contracts.
Financial documents.
Medical records.
Inheritance files.
She had access to everything.
Including the original Vale Trust.
At first, she thought the trust was simply a complicated inheritance arrangement.
Then she noticed something strange.
Rosalie's name appeared on documents dated before she was born.
Ownership had been transferred to her.
Not when she turned eighteen.
Not when she married.
At birth.
Anna became curious.
She searched older records.
And discovered that Rosalie's grandfather had created a protective trust specifically to prevent Edmund from controlling the company.
Edmund discovered what Anna had found.
He confronted her.
“You have no idea what you're reading.”
Anna told him she would expose him.
He laughed.
Then he showed her a photograph.
Her younger sister.
“Tell anyone,” Edmund said, “and she disappears.”
Anna stayed silent.
For months.
Until she discovered something worse.
Edmund had created a second set of records.
A hidden ownership structure.
He was secretly transferring Vale assets away from Rosalie.
Millions.
Then hundreds of millions.
Eventually billions.
Anna copied the evidence.
And planned to leave.
But she never made it out.
The First Burial
Anna remembered the night clearly.
She had been brought to the underground room.
Mercer was there.
Eleanor was there.
Edmund was there.
She had begged Eleanor for help.
“Please.”
Eleanor had cried.
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“Not against him.”
Anna had looked at Mercer.
“You're a doctor.”
Mercer wouldn't look at her.
Edmund placed a syringe on the table.
“You've become a problem.”
Anna struggled.
They injected her.
She remembered the cold.
The darkness.
Then waking inside a coffin.
She had been alive.
Just like Rosalie.
But unlike Rosalie, nobody opened hers.
For hours she screamed.
No one came.
Eventually, she stopped.
She realized the coffin had been placed in an abandoned burial chamber.
Not a cemetery.
Not a church.
A private underground vault.
She escaped because the coffin had not been sealed properly.
She crawled through a drainage tunnel.
Nearly died from dehydration.
And disappeared.
Everyone believed Anna Reed had died.
Because Edmund made sure they believed it.
Theodore listened without speaking.
Then asked:
“Why didn't you come back?”
Anna looked at him.
“Because I knew what would happen if I did.”
“What?”
“They would bury me again.”
Eleanor's Role
Theodore sat across from her.
“My mother knew.”
“Yes.”
“She watched them do it.”
“Yes.”
“She could have stopped them.”
Anna nodded.
“But she didn't.”
“Why?”
“Because Edmund threatened Sebastian.”
Theodore's eyes narrowed.
“How old was Sebastian?”
“Eight.”
“What did he threaten?”
Anna looked away.
“His life.”
Theodore stood.
“So she sacrificed you to protect him.”
“Yes.”
“Then she did the same thing to Rosalie.”
Anna nodded.
“History repeated itself.”
Theodore's voice became bitter.
“And everyone pretended they were protecting the family.”
Anna looked directly at him.
“That is what families like yours call fear.”
The Second Woman
Theodore pointed toward the photographs.
“Who were the others?”
Anna sighed.
“Women who knew too much.”
“Were they all buried?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“Some were paid.”
“Some disappeared.”
“Some were threatened.”
“And some?”
Anna looked at the corridor.
“Some were killed.”
Theodore felt sick.
“Why did nobody expose this?”
“Because the Vale family didn't rely on one secret.”
“What do you mean?”
“They built an entire system.”
Anna opened a folder.
Inside were photographs of judges.
Doctors.
Lawyers.
Police officers.
Bank executives.
Politicians.
Theodore stared.
“Your father didn't control people.”
Anna said quietly.
“He controlled the consequences.”
The Recording
Anna handed him a small cassette.
“What is this?”
“Your father's last recording.”
Theodore stared at it.
“Why do you have it?”
“Because he gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew I would survive.”
“Why would he help you?”
“He didn't.”
Anna looked at him.
“He wanted me to deliver it to Rosalie.”
Theodore frowned.
“What does it say?”
“I never listened.”
“Why?”
“Because some things are more dangerous when you know them.”
Theodore held the cassette.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
This time from an unknown number.
YOUR BROTHER IS WITH US.
Another message arrived.
A photograph.
Sebastian was sitting in a chair.
His hands were tied.
Blood marked his forehead.
Theodore's heart dropped.
Then another message.
BRING THE ORIGINAL TRUST.
Anna saw the photograph.
Her face became pale.
“They have Sebastian.”
“Yes.”
“And they know about the trust.”
“Yes.”
“Then they know about this room.”
Theodore looked around.
“How?”
Anna whispered:
“Because someone in this room told them.”
The Betrayal
Theodore turned.
There was nobody else.
“Who?”
Anna didn't answer.
“Anna.”
She looked at the door.
Then whispered:
“Victoria.”
Theodore's stomach tightened.
“She betrayed us?”
“She was never entirely on your side.”
“But she saved Rosalie.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Victoria doesn't want Rosalie dead.”
“What does she want?”
Anna looked at the trust documents.
“The company.”
Theodore understood.
“She wants the inheritance.”
“She wants control.”
“And Rosalie?”
“She needs Rosalie alive long enough to sign it away.”
Theodore stared at the floor.
“So the entire rescue was another trap.”
Anna nodded.
“And the person who kidnapped Rosalie…”
She hesitated.
“…is working with Victoria.”
“Who?”
Anna looked at him.
“Sebastian.”
Theodore's face hardened.
“No.”
“He helped them.”
“He was threatened.”
“Perhaps.”
“He loves Rosalie.”
“Perhaps.”
“He wouldn't betray her.”
Anna said quietly:
“Love doesn't always survive fear.”
The Second Recording
A sound came from the corridor.
Footsteps.
Anna stood.
“They found us.”
“Who?”
She extinguished the lantern.
“Run.”
Theodore grabbed the documents.
“What about you?”
“I know another way out.”
The door opened.
A flashlight swept across the room.
Someone shouted:
“Find them!”
Theodore followed Anna through a narrow passage.
They ran.
Behind them, doors slammed.
Men shouted.
Anna pushed open a hidden panel.
A staircase appeared.
“Go!”
“What about you?”
“I'll slow them down.”
“No.”
“You need to get Rosalie.”
Theodore hesitated.
Anna grabbed his arm.
“Listen to me.”
Her eyes were fierce.
“The first time they buried me, I was alone.”
She pushed him toward the stairs.
“I refuse to let Rosalie experience that.”
Theodore ran.
Behind him, he heard Anna scream.
Then a gunshot.
He stopped.
Turned.
“Anna!”
Silence.
He wanted to go back.
But his phone vibrated.
Another message.
YOU HAVE THIRTY MINUTES.
BRING THE TRUST TO THE NORTH WING.
COME ALONE.
Then a final message appeared.
OR YOUR SISTER DIES THIS TIME.
The Truth About Rosalie
Theodore emerged from the hidden tunnel beneath the conservatory.
Rain was still falling.
Police lights flashed beyond the trees.
He ran toward them.
A detective approached.
“Where have you been?”
“My sister has been kidnapped.”
“We know.”
“Where's Sebastian?”
The detective looked away.
“What?”
“We found his car.”
“Where?”
“Behind the north gate.”
“Is he inside?”
“No.”
Theodore's heart sank.
“What did you find?”
The detective handed him a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was Sebastian's watch.
Blood stained the strap.
Theodore stared at it.
Then noticed something beneath the watch.
A tiny piece of paper.
He opened it.
Only five words were written.
I NEVER BETRAYED HER. FORGIVE ME.
Theodore's hands began shaking.
Sebastian hadn't betrayed Rosalie.
He had been trying to tell him.
Theodore looked toward the mansion.
The answer was no longer simply about money.
Someone wanted the Vale Trust.
Someone wanted Rosalie alive long enough to sign it.
And someone was willing to kill everyone who stood between them and the inheritance.
Theodore took out the original trust.
He stared at Rosalie's name.
Then made a decision.
He would not bring the document to them.
He would use it as bait.
He called the detective.
“I need a favor.”
“What kind?”
“Lock down every exit from this estate.”
The detective frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I'm going back inside.”
“That's suicide.”
Theodore looked toward the dark mansion.
“No.”
He folded the trust carefully.
“It's the first time they're going to realize they're not hunting a victim anymore.”
The Woman in the Coffin
Across the city, in a room Theodore had never seen, Rosalie opened her eyes.
Her wrists were still restrained.
A dim lamp hung above her.
Someone stood beside the bed.
She tried to move.
The person leaned closer.
“You're awake.”
Rosalie recognized the voice.
Her face went pale.
“Sebastian?”
He stepped into the light.
His forehead was bruised.
His shirt was torn.
His hands were no longer tied.
He looked exhausted.
But alive.
Rosalie stared at him.
“Why am I here?”
Sebastian sat beside her.
“I tried to get you out.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“I didn't.”
“Who did?”
Sebastian looked toward the locked door.
“Victoria.”
Rosalie's heart sank.
“Where is Theodore?”
“Looking for you.”
“Will he find me?”
Sebastian looked at her.
“Yes.”
Rosalie shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if he comes here…”
She looked toward the door.
“They'll bury him too.”
Sebastian took her hand.
“We have to get out.”
A key turned in the lock.
Both froze.
The door opened.
Victoria entered.
She carried a folder.
She looked at Rosalie.
Then at Sebastian.
Then smiled.
“Good.”
Rosalie stared at her.
“What do you want?”
Victoria placed the folder on the table.
“The truth.”
Rosalie laughed weakly.
“You've been lying to me for eighteen years.”
“Yes.”
“Why should I tell you anything?”
Victoria opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph.
A little girl.
Rosalie recognized her immediately.
Her own daughter.
The child everyone had told her never existed.
Rosalie stopped breathing.
Victoria leaned closer.
“Because your daughter is alive.”
Rosalie's eyes filled with tears.
“And if you want to see her…”
Victoria placed a pen beside the contract.
“…you will sign.”
The door closed.
And for the first time since waking inside the coffin, Rosalie understood the real purpose of the entire conspiracy.
May you like
They had never wanted her dead.
They wanted her obedient.
