PART 5 — THE ROOM BEHIND THE WALL
I didn't sleep that night.
Not because of Luca.
Not because of the house.
Because of the message.
Your husband isn't the only person looking for what's inside.
At 3:40 a.m., another message arrived.
No number.
No name.
Just one photograph.
The basement of my house.
I recognized it immediately.
The old wine cellar.
But there was something strange about the photograph.
A red circle had been drawn around one section of the wall.
Underneath was a single sentence.
Your father built this for you.
I stared at the screen.
Then I called Phoebe.
She answered after two rings.
“Jessi?”
“Someone sent me a photograph.”
I forwarded it.
She opened it.
Silence.
“Phoebe?”
“I know this room.”
“How?”
“Your father showed me the blueprints years ago.”
My heart raced.
“What did he build?”
“He never told me.”
“Then why did he show you?”
“He said if anything happened to him, I should make sure you never sold the house.”
I sat upright.
“But you just helped me sell it.”
“I know.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know what the house contained.”
I looked at the photograph.
“Now we do.”
* * *
At 6:30 that morning, Phoebe, Evelyn and I drove toward Redwood Crest Drive.
The rain had stopped.
The streets were empty.
The estate looked exactly as it had the night before.
Beautiful.
Silent.
Untouchable.
Except for one thing.
The front door was open.
I stopped.
“He's inside.”
Evelyn grabbed my arm.
“Call the police.”
I nodded.
But before I could reach for my phone, a man stepped into the doorway.
Luca.
He smiled.
“Good morning.”
I stared at him.
“How did you get in?”
“My house has plenty of entrances.”
“It's not your house.”
He laughed.
“Still pretending?”
Phoebe stepped forward.
“Mr. Bennett, you are trespassing.”
He ignored her.
His eyes went directly to me.
“Where's Lily?”
“At my sister's.”
His smile disappeared.
“You shouldn't have left her.”
“Don't threaten me.”
“I'm not.”
“You just did.”
He stepped closer.
“You have no idea what you're doing.”
“I know exactly what I'm doing.”
“No.”
His voice became colder.
“You think this is about money.”
I stared at him.
“Isn't it?”
He looked toward the house.
“Your father left something here.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
He smiled.
“That's what I'm trying to find.”
Phoebe looked at me.
So did Evelyn.
Luca had just confirmed it.
He knew.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Because your father told me.”
I froze.
“My father never met you.”
“He did.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
“That isn't possible.”
Luca laughed.
“Ask your lawyer.”
Phoebe's face changed.
“What?”
Luca looked at her.
“You knew.”
Phoebe didn't answer.
I stared at her.
“Phoebe?”
She closed her eyes.
“I knew your father had concerns about Luca.”
“When?”
“Before your wedding.”
My stomach dropped.
“You knew and said nothing?”
“I didn't know he would target you.”
Luca interrupted.
“I didn't target her.”
He looked at me.
“I loved you.”
“Then why did you forge my signature?”
His face hardened.
“I needed the house.”
“For your debts?”
Silence.
That was enough.
“You knew about Lily's trust.”
He looked away.
I stepped closer.
“You knew about the six million dollars.”
His jaw tightened.
“You weren't supposed to find out.”
My blood went cold.
Evelyn whispered:
“Jessi…”
I understood.
He hadn't married me for the estate alone.
He had married me for Lily.
My newborn daughter.
Three days old.
Already worth millions on paper.
And suddenly I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone.
“Get out.”
He smiled.
“You can't make me.”
I pulled out my phone.
“Actually, I can.”
I showed him the message from the police.
Officers were already on their way.
His smile disappeared.
Then he ran.
Not toward the front door.
Toward the basement.
I looked at Phoebe.
“Stop him.”
We followed.
Luca reached the wine cellar first.
He went directly to the wall from the photograph.
He ran his hands across the stone.
“Where is it?”
I stood behind him.
“You tell me.”
He turned.
“Your father hid it here.”
“What?”
He pointed at the wall.
“There's a room behind this.”
I stared.
He pressed one stone.
Nothing happened.
Another.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the letter.
You built your life without depending on anyone.
I looked at the old fireplace.
There was a small brass plate beneath it.
I pressed it.
A click sounded.
The wall moved.
A narrow doorway opened.
Everyone froze.
Behind it was a room.
Dusty.
Dark.
Untouched for years.
And on the center table sat a single black box.
Luca rushed forward.
I grabbed his arm.
“No.”
He turned.
“That's mine.”
“No.”
I stepped into the room.
“It's my father's.”
The box had a combination lock.
Four digits.
I thought about the dates.
My birthday.
Lily's birth.
My father's death.
Nothing worked.
Then I saw a small inscription on the lid.
For the daughter who was brave enough to leave.
My breath caught.
I entered the date I left my first job to start my own company.
The box opened.
Inside was a stack of documents.
Photographs.
A flash drive.
And one letter.
I unfolded it.
My father's words appeared.
Jessi,
If you found this room, then Luca has already shown you who he really is.
My hands began shaking.
But he is only one piece of the puzzle.
I looked at Phoebe.
Then continued.
The person you should fear is not your husband.
My heart pounded.
It is the woman who helped him find you.
I stopped.
“Who?”
There was one final page.
One name.
I read it.
And felt the blood drain from my face.
Wendy.
Luca's mother.
But beneath her name was something worse.
A photograph.
Wendy standing beside my father.
Taken twenty years earlier.
And on the back, in my father's handwriting, were six words:
She knows what happened to your mother.
I couldn't breathe.
My mother had supposedly died when I was twelve.
But suddenly, for the first time in twenty years…
I wondered whether she had ever died at all.
