Chapter 2 - THE FORBIDDEN DOOR
Nobody moved.
The dragging sound came again.
Slow.
Heavy.
Scrape.
Pause.
Scrape.
Dominic looked at Mrs. Hargrove.
“What is inside that wing?”
Her expression recovered almost immediately.
“Old furniture.”
“At four in the afternoon?”
“The maintenance crew may be working.”
Dominic turned to the nearest guard.
“Is there maintenance scheduled?”
The guard checked his phone.
“No, sir.”
Mrs. Hargrove’s jaw tightened.
Clara felt Noah grip the back of her sweater.
Dominic noticed.
His son had rejected every nanny, therapist, nurse, and doctor who came near him.
Yet he was hiding behind a maid he had attacked sixty seconds earlier.
Dominic stepped toward him.
“Noah.”
The boy recoiled.
Dominic stopped.
Pain flickered across his face.
Only for an instant.
Clara saw it.
“No one is going to hurt you,” Dominic said.
Noah stared toward the north wing.
Then shook his head violently.
Mrs. Hargrove moved forward.
“He needs medication.”
Noah screamed.
Clara turned sharply.
“Don’t.”
Every eye in the foyer went to her.
Mrs. Hargrove’s voice became icy.
“Excuse me?”
“He reacted when you said medication.”
“You are a maid.”
“And he’s scared.”
“You have known him for four hours.”
Clara looked at Noah.
“Maybe four hours is enough to notice when a child is begging people to stop doing something.”
Dominic stared at Mrs. Hargrove.
“What medication?”
“The prescription Dr. Lanning authorized.”
Dominic’s forehead tightened.
“I canceled Lanning three months ago.”
Mrs. Hargrove froze.
That was all Dominic needed.
“Open the north wing.”
“Mr. Vale—”
“Now.”
“I don’t have the key.”
Noah suddenly reached beneath his shirt.
A thin cord hung around his neck.
Attached to it was a small brass key.
Mrs. Hargrove’s face collapsed.
Dominic took one slow step toward his son.
“Where did you get that?”
Noah squeezed the key in his fist.
Mrs. Hargrove lunged.
Clara reacted first.
She wrapped both arms around Noah and turned.
Mrs. Hargrove’s hand caught Clara’s shoulder instead.
Two guards seized her.
“Let go of me!”
Dominic’s expression became terrifyingly calm.
“Why were you trying to take that key?”
“I wasn’t.”
“I watched you.”
Noah buried his face against Clara’s neck.
Dominic held out his hand.
“Noah, may I have it?”
Noah did not move.
Clara whispered, “It’s okay.”
He slowly placed the key in Clara’s palm.
Not Dominic’s.
Clara looked at the billionaire.
He nodded once.
“Open it.”
Mrs. Hargrove struggled harder.
“You don’t understand what you’re doing!”
Clara crossed the marble floor.
Noah remained attached to her hand.
The closer they got to the north wing, the slower the boy walked.
At the door, he stopped completely.
Clara crouched.
“You don’t have to go in.”
He whispered something.
“What?”
“Mommy.”
Dominic’s face went empty.
Clara turned the key.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
A stale smell rolled into the hallway.
Dust.
Medicine.
Something metallic.
Lights came on automatically.
The corridor beyond looked unused.
White sheets covered furniture.
Three doors lined the wall.
Dominic entered behind Clara.
“Search everything.”
Guards spread out.
The first room contained old paintings.
The second held filing cabinets.
The third was locked.
Noah began shaking so violently his teeth clicked.
Clara knelt beside him.
“What’s behind there?”
He lifted his hand.
There were four faint circular scars on his wrist.
Clara’s stomach dropped.
Dominic saw them.
His voice turned almost inaudible.
“What happened to his arm?”
Nobody answered.
One guard kicked the door open.
Inside stood a child-sized bed.
Leather restraints were attached to the frame.
Dominic stopped breathing.
On the wall above it hung a small security monitor.
The screen was dark.
Beside the bed sat a cabinet full of syringes.
And on the floor, partially hidden beneath a blanket, Clara saw a photograph.
She picked it up.
It showed Evelyn Vale.
Alive.
May you like
Standing inside that room.
The date stamped in the corner was three months after the night Dominic had been told she died.
