Chapter 4 - The Housekeeper They Had Been Waiting For
Victor didn't point the gun at Emma.
He pointed it at the doorway.
“Who else has seen this?”
The butler shook his head.
“No one.”
Emma stared at the photograph.
The woman in it looked like her from behind.
Same uniform.
Same brown hair.
Same height.
But Emma had never seen Eleanor Blackwood.
She had never worked at Blackwood Manor before three months ago.
“I can explain,” she whispered.
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“Then explain.”
“I can't.”
His grip tightened.
“That's not an answer.”
“I mean I genuinely can't.”
Emma searched her memory.
She had applied for the position through an agency.
Her documents had been checked.
Her references verified.
Everything was normal.
Except one thing.
Her mother had died when Emma was nineteen.
Her mother had always refused to talk about Emma's father.
Emma had never known why.
Victor stepped closer.
“Who hired you?”
“The agency.”
“Name.”
“Margaret Hale.”
The butler stiffened.
Victor noticed.
“You know her?”
The butler looked away.
“Sir…”
Victor's voice hardened.
“Who is Margaret Hale?”
The butler whispered.
“She was Eleanor's secretary.”
Emma's heart dropped.
The woman who had supposedly died twelve years ago.
The woman whose name someone had been using.
Margaret Hale had hired Emma.
Victor walked away.
“Call the agency.”
Emma took out her phone.
No signal.
She looked up.
“The phones are dead.”
Victor checked his.
Nothing.
The mansion had been cut off.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
A sound came from the dining room.
A chair scraping across marble.
Victor turned.
The forbidden chair was moving.
Nobody touched it.
It slid backward by itself.
Emma froze.
Victor approached carefully.
The chair stopped.
Underneath it was a small metal compartment.
Emma stared.
“That wasn't there before.”
Victor knelt.
The compartment opened with a click.
Inside was a key.
And a folded piece of paper.
Victor unfolded it.
Basement. Room Seven.
The butler shook his head.
“No.”
Victor looked at him.
“What?”
“You cannot go there.”
“Why?”
“Because Eleanor locked it herself.”
Victor's expression darkened.
“Then we're going.”
The basement was beneath the oldest part of the mansion.
Emma followed Victor down the stairs.
The air became colder.
At the bottom was a steel door.
Room Seven.
Victor inserted the key.
It didn't fit.
He looked at Emma.
She noticed a tiny mark on the key.
A circle.
Then a line.
She touched the door.
“Try turning it twice.”
Victor did.
The lock opened.
Inside was a wall of photographs.
Emma's photograph was among them.
Victor's.
The butler's.
Every servant.
Every family member.
Emma stepped closer.
Then stopped.
One photograph showed Victor's mother.
Another showed Victor as a teenager.
Another showed Emma as a little girl.
She couldn't breathe.
“That isn't possible.”
Victor turned.
“What?”
“My picture.”
He looked.
It was Emma at approximately six years old.
Standing beside a woman.
Her mother.
And beside her mother was Eleanor Blackwood.
Emma stared.
“I've never met her.”
Victor looked at the date.
It was fifteen years ago.
Before Emma ever knew Blackwood Manor existed.
The butler whispered, “Oh God.”
Victor looked at him.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew her.”
“I knew Eleanor.”
“And Emma?”
The butler shook his head.
“No.”
Emma stepped closer to the photograph.
Something was written beneath it.
Protected asset.
She turned toward Victor.
“What does that mean?”
Before he could answer, a hidden speaker crackled.
Eleanor's recorded voice filled the room.
“Emma, if you're hearing this, then Margaret failed.”
Emma's heart stopped.
Victor stared at the speaker.
The voice continued.
“Do not trust Victor.”
Emma looked at him.
Then Eleanor said the words that changed everything.
“Your real father is alive.”
The speaker went silent.
May you like
A second later, the steel door slammed shut behind them.
And someone locked it from the outside.
