Chapter 4 - The Woman in the East WingElena felt the room tilt.
Julian caught her before she fell.
For one brief moment, everything else disappeared—the accusations, the guests, the police, Victoria’s hatred. There was only Julian’s hand on her arm and the sound of her own heartbeat hammering in her ears.
Marla was dead.
The woman who had hired her.
The woman who might have known the truth about Rosa Morris.
The woman who had disappeared minutes after Elena mentioned the velvet envelope.
Detective Reeves moved first.
“Nobody touches anything,” he ordered. “Take me to her.”
Julian released Elena slowly. “Stay here.”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
“Elena—”
“She knew my mother.”
“That is why you should not see this.”
Elena looked at him, tears shining but voice steady.
“I have spent sixteen years seeing worse in my imagination.”
Julian had no answer.
Reeves watched them carefully, then nodded once.
“She can come, but she stays behind me.”
Victoria rose. “Absolutely not. This is still my house.”
Richard laughed bitterly from the doorway.
“Not for long.”
Victoria shot him a murderous look.
The group moved through the mansion: Reeves, Julian, Elena, two officers, and security. Behind them, whispers spilled from the ballroom like smoke.
The east wing was older than the rest of the estate, lined with dark portraits of Harrington ancestors and heavy curtains that swallowed the light. Elena had cleaned there twice, but Marla had always warned staff not to linger.
At the end of the corridor, a sitting room door stood open.
An officer blocked Elena’s path.
She looked past him.
Marla Greene lay on the Persian rug beside an overturned chair.
Her gray uniform was twisted. One hand was curled around something near her chest.
Elena turned away, trembling.
Julian stepped between her and the doorway.
“Don’t look.”
But she had already seen enough.
Reeves crouched beside the body without touching it.
“No blood.”
One officer said, “Possible heart attack?”
Reeves examined the table.
A teacup sat beside a small silver tray.
He leaned closer.
“Or poison.”
Julian’s face hardened.
Victoria’s perfume drifted faintly through the corridor.
Elena turned.
Victoria stood at the far end, flanked by a security guard.
Julian’s voice thundered.
“Why is she here?”
The guard stammered, “She insisted—”
Victoria stepped forward.
“I have every right to know what is happening in my home.”
Reeves pointed at the guard. “Remove her.”
Victoria looked past him, straight at Elena.
“You should have stayed buried with your mother’s lies.”
The corridor froze.
Julian moved so fast that even Reeves looked surprised.
He was in front of Victoria in two strides.
“What did you just say?”
Victoria lifted her chin, but her eyes betrayed her.
“I said she is lying.”
“No,” Julian said quietly. “You said buried.”
Victoria’s mouth tightened.
Reeves rose.
“Mrs. Harrington, you’re coming with me.”
She laughed. “For what?”
“For questioning in connection with two theft-related conspiracies, one suspicious death tonight, and a sixteen-year-old case that just became very interesting.”
Victoria’s composure cracked.
“You have nothing.”
Reeves glanced toward Marla’s hand.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
The medical examiner, who had arrived with astonishing speed due to the influence of the Harrington name, carefully opened Marla’s fingers.
Inside was a small key.
Attached to it was a paper tag.
Three numbers were written in blue ink.
7-1-9.
Elena gasped.
Julian looked at her. “What is it?”
“My mother,” Elena whispered. “She used to sing me a lullaby about three numbers.”
Reeves frowned. “A lullaby?”
Elena nodded, barely breathing.
“She told me if I ever got lost, I should remember seven, one, nine.”
Julian took a step closer.
“Seven-one-nine could be a room.”
“There is no room 719 in this house,” Victoria said too quickly.
Everyone turned toward her.
Reeves smiled slightly.
“Thank you for confirming it matters.”
Victoria realized her mistake.
The old confidence drained from her face.
Julian looked at the key.
Then at the portraits lining the corridor.
“The estate has hidden storage rooms. My grandfather used them for private archives.”
Richard, who had followed them quietly, spoke from behind.
“There’s a sealed wine cellar below the east wing.”
Victoria spun around.
“Richard.”
He ignored her.
“Your father used to call it the seventh room.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
“The seventh room?”
Richard nodded. “Behind the old library wall.”
Elena whispered, “Seven.”
Reeves looked at the tag again.
“One-nine.”
Julian’s expression changed.
“My father died on January ninth.”
Elena’s stomach dropped.
Rosa Morris had disappeared the same week.
The key, the numbers, the hidden room, Marla’s death—everything was pointing beneath the house.
Victoria stepped backward.
“You cannot open that room.”
Julian turned to her.
“Watch me.”
The police escorted Victoria away as she shouted for her lawyer.
But Elena barely heard her.
She was staring at the small key in the evidence bag.
For sixteen years, she had believed her mother’s truth had vanished into the river.
May you like
Now it was calling from beneath the Harrington mansion.
And whatever waited behind door 719 was dangerous enough that someone had killed again to keep it hidden.
