Chapter 6 - The File Behind the Locked Door
“Lucy!”
Emma ran into the hallway.
Vincent arrived seconds later.
His face changed when he saw the empty bed.
“Lock the property.”
Marco answered through the radio.
“Already done.”
Nobody had exited.
That meant Lucy remained somewhere inside the mansion.
Emma picked up the walker.
A wheel was damaged.
She noticed something beneath it.
Red thread.
Lucy’s dress.
Emma followed tiny scraps toward the old east wing.
The wing had been closed since Lorenzo’s death.
Vincent kicked open the first locked door.
Empty.
Second.
Empty.
Then Emma heard something.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
“Lucy?”
Tap.
They followed the sound.
A storage room.
Locked.
Vincent broke the door.
Lucy sat inside.
Alive.
Terrified.
Beside her was Sophie.
Emma dropped to her knees.
Lucy crawled into her arms.
Vincent searched the room.
Celeste wasn’t there.
But a hidden passage behind a cabinet explained how she had moved through the house unseen.
Lucy whispered something.
“Lady said hide.”
“What lady?”
Lucy pointed toward the passage.
“Aunt Cece.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
Lucy then pointed at the wall.
“Grandpa room.”
Behind old shelves, they discovered a safe.
The blue key opened it.
Inside was Lorenzo’s private file.
And a video recording.
Lorenzo appeared onscreen.
Older.
Tired.
Ashamed.
He admitted knowing Evelyn had been threatened.
He admitted failing to protect her.
And he named Isabella.
Emma watched in silence.
Vincent looked devastated.
His father had known.
Worse, Lorenzo had suspected Isabella intended to manipulate Lucy’s future inheritance.
That was why he created surveillance backups nobody else knew existed.
One server remained.
Hidden off-site.
The recording contained its location.
Celeste had kidnapped Lucy inside the mansion because she wanted the file.
But Lucy had apparently screamed loudly enough to force Celeste to abandon her when security approached.
Vincent turned to Emma.
“This ends now.”
Emma understood.
Evidence would go to federal investigators.
No family handling.
No private revenge.
No disappearing enemies.
Evidence.
Courtrooms.
Names.
Consequences.
Vincent made the calls himself.
That night, he promised Emma something.
“No one touches you again.”
Emma looked at him.
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can try.”
“Promise me something else.”
“What?”
“Don’t become them while destroying them.”
Vincent was silent.
Then he nodded.
“I promise.”
The following morning, investigators arrived.
So did reporters.
The Moretti name exploded across every news channel.
Emma became an unwilling part of the story.
The maid who uncovered the scandal.
The woman whose mother had died protecting evidence.
The caregiver who challenged a celebrated specialist.
Some stories praised her.
Others mocked her weight.
Her job.
Her relationship with Vincent.
One headline called her “the chubby Cinderella of the Moretti mansion.”
Emma stared at it.
Vincent ripped the newspaper in half.
She laughed.
“That doesn’t actually delete the article.”
“I know.”
“You look disappointed.”
“I am.”
She laughed harder.
He stared at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“You’re beautiful when you laugh.”
Emma stopped.
Vincent did not take it back.
She looked away.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Say things because you feel guilty.”
“I don’t.”
“Or grateful.”
“I’m not.”
“Vincent.”
He stepped closer.
“I’ve spent my entire life knowing when people fear me, want money from me, or want my name.”
His voice softened.
“You wanted none of it.”
Emma looked at him.
“What do you think I want?”
“For Lucy to be happy.”
“Yes.”
“And for me not to become an idiot.”
“That’s becoming more difficult.”
He smiled.
Then kissed her.
Slowly.
Giving her time to move away.
She didn’t.
When they separated, Emma whispered, “This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
“Your family hates me.”
“My family hates everybody.”
“That is not reassuring.”
He almost kissed her again.
A phone rang.
Emma’s.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then Celeste spoke.
“You should have taken the money when Mother offered it.”
Emma’s expression changed.
“What money?”
Vincent immediately moved closer.
Celeste laughed.
“You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Ask Vincent what his father left Evelyn Brooks.”
The line disconnected.
Emma turned toward Vincent.
He looked genuinely confused.
Marco entered carrying Lorenzo’s newly decrypted estate file.
His expression was grim.
“Emma.”
She looked at him.
“You need to see this.”
He placed a document on the table.
At the bottom was Evelyn Brooks’s name.
Beside it was a number.
May you like
$48,000,000.
And beneath the number was a single handwritten condition.
