Chapter 4 - BENEATH THE FLOORBOARDS
The master bedroom was vast, decorated in minimalist shades of ivory, taupe, and polished chrome. It was a space designed to feel weightless, airy, and free of clutter. But beneath the Scandinavian aesthetic lay the old bones of an 18th-century Victorian structure—a house built with double walls, hidden servant passages, and secret compartments designed to store valuables during times of war.
Daniel stood up, ignoring Vanessa completely now. He walked toward the king-sized bed, his heavy leather shoes making no sound on the thick wool carpet.
Vanessa made a sudden, frantic movement forward, her hands outstretched as if to grab him. "Daniel, stop! Don't do this! You don't know what she was doing! Victoria was unstable—she was losing her mind before she left!"
Daniel didn't even look back. He raised his left arm and thrust his elbow backward with brutal, calculated precision. The blow caught Vanessa squarely in the chest, sending her stumbling back against the marble vanity. A tray of glass bottles clattered to the floor, shattering into a hundred glittering shards.
"Stay away from my daughter," Daniel said, his voice flat and dead. "And stay away from me."
He dropped to his knees beside the bed, grabbing the heavy wooden frame and lifting it with a groan of exertion. The bed shifted several inches, exposing the dark oak parquet floor beneath that had remained hidden from sunlight for years.
Sophie crept closer, standing behind her father, clutching the hem of her pink pajama shirt. She was no longer crying; her small face was set in a strange, solemn mask, watching her father work.
Daniel searched the floorboards with his fingers, tracing the dark seams between the wood panels. Near the back wall, where the shadow was deepest, his fingertips caught on a subtle, raised edge. It was a small, perfectly cut rectangular section of oak, barely visible to the untrained eye.
He pressed down on the left side. With a soft click, the right side popped up.
Inside the small, velvet-lined cavity lay a metal object and a thick, sealed envelope.
The object was a small silver key, intricate and old-fashioned, with a crest engraved on the bow—a crest Daniel recognized as belonging to the estate of Victoria’s late grandfather.
The envelope was made of heavy, cream-colored parchment, sealed with dark red wax. Stamped into the wax was the impression of a signet ring: a raven perched on a barren branch.
On the front of the envelope, written in clear, unfaltering black ink, were three names:
For Daniel. For Sophie. Not for Vanessa.
Daniel reached into the recess and pulled the envelope out. The paper was cold to the touch.
Behind him, Vanessa had recovered her balance. She was standing by the shattered glass, her hand resting on the edge of the vanity, her fingers bleeding where a piece of broken crystal had cut her palm. Crimson drops dripped steadily onto her pristine beige suit trousers, but she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were fixed on the red wax seal.
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"You open that," Vanessa whispered, her voice trembling with an emotion Daniel couldn't quite decipher—was it fear, or was it despair?—"and you destroy everything. Everything we’ve built, Daniel. Everything I’ve done to keep this family together."
"This family died the day Victoria vanished," Daniel said, rising to his feet with the envelope in his hand. "Or maybe it died long before that, and I was just too blind to see the corpse."
