Chapter 4 - The Man Behind the Door
“Mommy said the man behind the door is—”
Poppy's voice suddenly stopped.
Victor stood frozen beside the wardrobe.
Elena's fingers were still wrapped around his arm.
Marcus lifted his weapon.
Nobody breathed.
Victor stared at the hidden panel.
“Poppy?”
No answer.
He stepped closer.
“Poppy, listen to me. It's Victor. I'm here.”
Silence.
Then three soft knocks came from behind the wall.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Victor looked at Elena.
She had gone completely pale.
“You know that signal.”
Elena nodded.
“Who uses it?”
She swallowed.
“Gregory.”
Victor's expression hardened.
“Then he's inside.”
“No.”
Elena shook her head quickly.
“Gregory doesn't knock three times.”
Victor looked at her.
“He taught me the signal.”
“Not that signal.”
She stared at the panel.
“That was the signal we used when we were trying to protect Poppy.”
Victor felt a cold pressure in his chest.
“What does it mean?”
Elena whispered,
“Someone is asking whether it's safe to come out.”
Marcus lowered his weapon slightly.
“Then answer.”
Victor nodded.
He approached the wall.
Three knocks.
He answered with two.
Silence.
Then one knock.
Elena closed her eyes.
“He's alive.”
Victor turned.
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
“Who is alive?”
Elena looked at him.
“The person you buried twelve years ago.”
Victor's face went blank.
“No.”
Elena's eyes filled with tears.
“I thought he was dead too.”
Marcus stepped between them.
“Victor, we need to open this.”
Victor reached for the hidden panel.
Before he touched it, Poppy screamed.
“Don't!”
Victor stopped.
“Poppy?”
Her voice came from behind the wall.
“Don't open it!”
“Why?”
“Because he said you would.”
Victor stared at the panel.
“Who said?”
Poppy began crying.
“He said you always open doors when you're angry.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“That sounds like someone who knows me.”
Elena whispered,
“He does.”
Victor turned toward her.
“Tell me everything.”
“I can't.”
“You've had twelve years.”
“I was protecting you.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I had no choice.”
Victor's voice became colder.
“You always had a choice.”
Elena flinched.
Marcus looked between them.
“Now is probably not the time.”
Victor ignored him.
“You watched me bury you.”
“I watched from a car two streets away.”
“You watched me destroy myself.”
“I know.”
“You watched me believe our child died.”
Elena's face broke.
“I know.”
Victor stepped closer.
“Then you don't get to tell me you were protecting me.”
“I was protecting Poppy.”
“And what about me?”
Elena looked into his eyes.
“I was protecting her from you.”
Victor went still.
The words hurt more than he expected.
“From me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the people hunting her knew exactly what you would become if they took her.”
Victor stared at her.
“I already know what I am.”
“No.”
Elena shook her head.
“You don't.”
Before Victor could answer, Marcus suddenly looked toward the hallway.
“We have company.”
Footsteps echoed downstairs.
Heavy.
More than one person.
Victor's face hardened.
“How many?”
Marcus listened.
“At least four.”
Victor looked at Elena.
“Can they get into this room?”
“They can get anywhere.”
“Then we're leaving.”
Elena shook her head.
“Not through the hallway.”
Victor looked at the hidden panel.
“Then through there.”
He reached for it.
Elena grabbed his wrist.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain quickly.”
“That passage doesn't lead outside.”
“Where does it lead?”
Elena looked toward the floor.
“To the old chapel.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“There hasn't been a chapel on this property since the renovation.”
“There is.”
Marcus looked at Victor.
“That's impossible.”
Elena shook her head.
“It was sealed.”
“Why?”
“Because that's where they kept the records.”
“What records?”
“The records of every child born under the Castellano name.”
Victor stared at her.
“How many?”
Elena's voice dropped.
“More than you think.”
A gunshot exploded downstairs.
Poppy screamed.
Victor's expression changed instantly.
“Open it.”
Elena stepped aside.
Victor pressed the hidden mechanism.
The panel moved.
A narrow passage appeared behind the wall.
Marcus entered first.
Victor followed.
Elena came behind them.
The panel closed.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Victor held Poppy against his chest.
She was trembling violently.
“I've got you.”
“Don't let him take me.”
“I won't.”
“He knows where we go.”
Victor looked at Elena.
“Who?”
Poppy shook her head.
“He wears Daddy's watch.”
Victor froze.
Elena stopped walking.
Marcus turned.
“What did she say?”
Victor looked down at the child.
“What watch?”
Poppy pointed toward Elena.
“That one.”
Everyone looked at Elena's wrist.
She was wearing an old silver watch.
Victor recognized it.
His father's watch.
The one that had disappeared the night Elena supposedly died.
Victor stared at her.
“Where did you get that?”
Elena's face changed.
“I found it.”
“Where?”
She didn't answer.
“Where?”
“On the night you disappeared.”
Victor's voice hardened.
“You've been wearing it for twelve years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it was the only thing I had left.”
Victor looked at the watch.
Something about it bothered him.
He couldn't explain why.
Then he remembered.
His father had engraved something inside the back cover.
A date.
A name.
Victor reached for Elena's wrist.
She pulled away.
“Don't.”
“Open it.”
“No.”
“Open it.”
Elena looked at him.
“You won't like what you find.”
Victor held her gaze.
“I haven't liked anything I've found tonight.”
She slowly removed the watch.
Her hands were shaking.
She pressed the small latch.
The back opened.
Victor leaned closer.
There was an engraving.
Not his father's initials.
Not Elena's.
A single name.
Hannah.
Victor's eyes widened.
Marcus stared.
“Why would Hannah's name be inside your father's watch?”
Elena closed it.
“Because Hannah was there that night.”
Victor looked at her.
“She was a maid.”
“No.”
Elena's voice trembled.
“She was seventeen.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“Seventeen?”
“She wasn't working for us.”
“Then what was she doing here?”
Elena took a breath.
“She was carrying Poppy.”
Victor felt his grip tighten around the child.
“Poppy was six months old.”
“Yes.”
“And Hannah was seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“Why would a seventeen-year-old have my daughter?”
“Because I asked her to.”
Victor stared.
“You gave our daughter to a teenager?”
“I gave her to someone I trusted.”
“You didn't trust me.”
“I trusted you enough to know you would die trying to save her.”
Victor's expression hardened.
“And Hannah?”
“Hannah was invisible.”
Elena looked down.
“She had no power. No family name. No connection to the Castellanos. Nobody would think she was carrying something valuable.”
“What happened?”
“The plan failed.”
“How?”
Elena looked toward the darkness behind them.
“Someone betrayed us.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Another gunshot echoed from the mansion.
Marcus looked back.
“They're inside the east wing.”
Victor shifted Poppy higher.
“Move.”
They hurried through the passage.
The walls were damp.
Old pipes ran overhead.
Every few feet, Victor saw markings scratched into the stone.
Numbers.
Dates.
Initials.
Some had been crossed out.
Others had small circles around them.
Poppy suddenly lifted her head.
“We're close.”
Victor looked down.
“Close to what?”
“The room.”
“What room?”
“The one Mama told me never to enter.”
Victor glanced at Elena.
She looked terrified.
“Keep moving,” she whispered.
They reached an iron door.
There was no handle.
Only a small circular opening.
Victor examined it.
“What opens this?”
Elena reached into her pocket.
She pulled out a silver coin.
Victor recognized it immediately.
His lucky coin.
The one he thought Hannah had taken.
“You had it.”
Elena nodded.
“Hannah gave it to me.”
“When?”
“Before she disappeared.”
Victor stared at the coin.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because if Gregory knew I had it, he would know where Poppy was.”
Victor held out his hand.
Elena gave him the coin.
He inserted it into the circular opening.
The iron door unlocked.
A deep metallic click echoed through the passage.
Marcus pushed it open.
Inside was a small underground room.
Shelves covered every wall.
Folders.
Photographs.
Medical records.
Birth certificates.
Death certificates.
Victor stepped inside.
Then he stopped.
On the center table was a file.
His name was written across it.
VICTOR CASTELLANO.
Underneath was another name.
ELENA CASTELLANO.
And below both was a third.
POPPY BELL.
Victor reached for it.
Elena grabbed his arm.
“Don't.”
He pulled away.
“Enough.”
He opened the file.
The first page was a medical report.
His eyes moved across the words.
He read them twice.
Then a third time.
His face went pale.
Marcus stepped closer.
“What is it?”
Victor couldn't speak.
Elena looked away.
Victor finally forced the words out.
“This says Poppy wasn't born twelve years ago.”
Marcus frowned.
“Then when?”
Victor turned the page.
His hand was trembling.
The date on the document was eighteen months after Elena's supposed death.
Marcus stared.
“That can't be right.”
Victor looked at Elena.
She was crying.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was born after you disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Elena's voice broke.
“Because I was there.”
Victor's eyes widened.
“You were alive.”
“Yes.”
“You gave birth to her after the fire.”
Elena nodded.
Victor stared at the report.
Then something else caught his eye.
A second medical file was underneath.
He pulled it free.
The name on the front wasn't Poppy.
It was another child's name.
A boy.
Born on the same night.
Victor looked at Elena.
“Who is this?”
She didn't answer.
Marcus opened the file.
His expression changed.
“There are two birth certificates.”
Victor looked down.
Two babies.
Same mother.
Same hospital.
Same date.
One girl.
One boy.
Victor's heart began pounding.
“Elena.”
She whispered,
“I never told you because I thought the boy was dead.”
Victor looked at the photograph attached to the file.
A newborn baby.
Dark hair.
A tiny scar beneath the left eyebrow.
The same scar Elena had.
Victor's breath caught.
Then footsteps sounded inside the passage behind them.
Slow.
Measured.
Someone was walking toward the underground room.
Marcus raised his weapon.
Victor closed the file.
Elena stepped backward.
The footsteps stopped outside the iron door.
Nobody moved.
Then a man's voice came through the darkness.
“Victor.”
Victor knew that voice.
He had heard it for fourteen years.
He had trusted it.
He had defended it.
He had given it the keys to his house.
The voice spoke again.
“Open the door.”
Victor looked at Marcus.
Marcus whispered,
“Gregory.”
But Victor wasn't looking at the door anymore.
He was staring at the photograph of the newborn boy.
May you like
Because written beneath the photograph were three words that made his blood run cold—
Father: Victor Castellano.
