Chapter 2 - The Fiancée Who Controlled the Mansion
Celeste Vane stood in front of the locked office door, holding a glass of untouched wine: "Open this door, Vincent. You promised me there would be no secrets between us." When Vincent Moretti entered the room, he found Elena Marlowe’s old photograph hidden inside his father’s private archive. But beneath the picture was a faded note: "She knows what happened that night." Vincent realized someone inside his mansion had been watching Elena for years.
The note remained in Vincent’s hand.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
The office was silent except for the sound of the old clock ticking against the wall.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Fifteen years.
That was how long this room had remained untouched.
Fifteen years since his father died.
Fifteen years since Isabella Marlowe disappeared.
Fifteen years since Vincent learned that some questions were more dangerous than their answers.
He looked again at the photograph.
A younger Isabella stood in the background of an old family gathering.
She wasn't smiling.
She wasn't looking at the camera.
She was looking at someone else.
Someone standing beside Vincent’s father.
Someone whose face had been scratched away.
Vincent folded the note slowly.
"Who removed this?"
His voice was quiet.
But dangerous.
Nobody answered.
The old head servant standing behind him lowered his eyes.
"I don't know, sir."
Vincent turned.
The man immediately looked nervous.
"You worked here when Isabella was alive."
"Yes, sir."
"You knew her."
A long pause.
"Yes."
Vincent stepped closer.
"Then tell me why everyone in this house remembers her as a traitor, but nobody remembers what she actually did."
The servant's hands trembled.
Because that was the question everyone avoided.
The question that had been buried with the dead.
Before he could answer, footsteps echoed outside.
Slow.
Confident.
Familiar.
Celeste entered the hallway.
She didn't look afraid.
She never did.
She walked into rooms as if they belonged to her.
Even rooms that belonged to Vincent.
"Are you investigating a ghost now?"
Her voice carried a slight smile.
Vincent looked at her.
"How long have you known about Isabella Marlowe?"
For the first time, Celeste's expression changed.
Only for a second.
But Vincent noticed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't lie to me."
The words were calm.
That made them worse.
Celeste walked closer.
"Vincent, you disappeared into this office because a servant showed you a meaningless note."
"She isn't meaningless."
Celeste stared at him.
"She is a maid."
Vincent's eyes hardened.
"And?"
Celeste sighed.
"You are letting emotions cloud your judgment."
"No."
He looked at the note.
"Someone spent fifteen years hiding this."
Celeste's jaw tightened.
"Maybe because there was nothing worth finding."
The room became silent.
Vincent studied her.
The woman who always knew what to say.
The woman who always controlled every conversation.
For the first time, he wondered if Celeste wasn't surprised by the secret.
Maybe she was afraid of it.
The next morning, the entire mansion changed.
Everyone knew something had happened.
Servants whispered in corners.
Guards exchanged nervous looks.
The atmosphere was different.
Because Vincent Moretti had given one unexpected order.
"Nobody touches Elena Marlowe."
The words spread through the house within minutes.
And everyone knew what that meant.
Elena was no longer just a maid.
She had Vincent's attention.
That made her dangerous.
Elena stood in the kitchen preparing breakfast when another maid approached her.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Elena looked up.
"Tell you what?"
"That you knew Vincent before."
"I didn't."
The maid frowned.
"But your mother knew his family."
Elena lowered her eyes.
"My mother knew many people."
She continued cutting vegetables.
But her hands were slower.
Because she remembered things she tried to forget.
A woman holding her hand.
A burning house.
A whispered warning.
Never trust the Moretti name.
Never let them know who you are.
But now Vincent Moretti knew.
And worse.
He wanted answers.
Later that afternoon, Vincent found Elena in the garden.
She was trimming flowers near the old stone wall.
Not hiding.
Not waiting.
Just working.
That surprised him.
Most people tried to gain his attention.
Elena seemed to avoid it.
"You knew my family name before yesterday."
Elena stopped.
"I knew your family name because everyone does."
"You knew my father."
"No."
Vincent watched her carefully.
"You hesitated."
She placed the scissors down.
"My mother told me never to speak about that time."
"Why?"
"Because she was afraid."
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
Vincent stepped closer.
"Afraid of who?"
Elena looked at the mansion.
Not at him.
"The people who smiled while destroying her life."
The words hit harder than an accusation.
Vincent looked away.
Because a part of him already knew.
His father had not been the honorable man everyone claimed.
But accepting that meant questioning everything.
His family.
His empire.
His entire identity.
"Did my father hurt your mother?"
Elena remained silent.
That silence was enough.
Vincent's expression changed.
Before he could ask again, a voice interrupted them.
"Vincent."
Celeste stood at the garden entrance.
Perfect dress.
Perfect hair.
Perfect smile.
But her eyes were cold.
"We need to talk."
Elena immediately stepped away.
But Vincent stopped her.
"No."
Celeste looked surprised.
"No?"
"She stays."
The smile disappeared from Celeste's face.
"You are choosing a servant over your fiancée?"
Vincent didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
And that frightened him.
Celeste looked at Elena.
For a moment, there was no pretending.
No elegance.
No kindness.
Only anger.
"You don't understand what kind of world you entered."
Elena met her eyes.
"Maybe I understand it better than you think."
Celeste's expression hardened.
"Careful."
Elena picked up the scissors again.
"I have been careful my entire life."
That sentence stayed in the air.
Vincent noticed something.
Elena wasn't challenging Celeste because she was brave.
She was challenging her because she was tired.
Tired of being afraid.
That night, Vincent returned to his office.
The envelope from his father was still on the desk.
He finally opened it.
Inside was a single page.
Only a few lines.
Vincent,
If Isabella's daughter ever returns, protect her.
She knows the truth.
But she doesn't know who betrayed her.
Vincent read the message three times.
Then he turned the page.
There was another sentence written beneath it.
A sentence that made his blood run cold.
The person who destroyed Isabella Marlowe is still living inside this mansion.
Vincent immediately stood.
Because there was only one reason his father would write that warning.
The person responsible was close.
Very close.
His phone suddenly rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
No one spoke.
Only breathing.
Then a voice whispered:
"Stop searching for Isabella Marlowe."
Vincent froze.
"Who is this?"
A pause.
Then the stranger said:
"Ask Elena why she really came back to the Moretti mansion."
The call ended.
Vincent stared at the screen.
Because Elena had never told him she came back for anything.
She had only said she needed a job.
But now he knew.
May you like
She was hiding something.
And before he could leave the office, the locked door behind him slowly opened from the inside.
