Chapter 3 - The Hidden Compartment
The brass key fit a lock Sebastian had never seen before.
That frightened him more than the attack.
The key was tiny, old, and worn smooth by years of handling. It did not belong to any modern safe in the Romano estate.
Norah held it beneath the light.
“Your mother used this.”
“Yes.”
“Or my father did.”
Sebastian glanced at her.
“You knew he was involved.”
“I knew he was connected to the necklace.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
Norah looked at the key.
“But we are going to find out.”
They returned to the study several hours later.
The police had left.
The media had not been called.
Sebastian had made certain of that.
Grace was alive and recovering from shock in a private room.
Luca had a graze along his shoulder and insisted it was nothing.
Norah stood at the large desk while Sebastian opened a series of old family records.
Nothing.
No mention of the key.
No reference to a hidden compartment.
No indication that Evelyn had ever met Henry Collins.
Then Norah noticed something.
A framed portrait.
Sebastian’s mother stood beside a grand piano.
The necklace rested around her neck.
Norah walked closer.
“Your mother wore this every Christmas.”
“Yes.”
“Every year?”
“Almost.”
She studied the photographs.
In one image, Evelyn’s hand rested on the piano.
Behind her sat a carved music box.
The same brass emblem appeared on it as the key.
Norah turned.
“Where is that music box?”
Sebastian stared at the photograph.
“I have it.”
“Where?”
He led her to a storage room.
The music box was covered in dust.
Norah cleaned the surface carefully.
The brass emblem matched the key exactly.
She inserted it.
Click.
A hidden panel opened.
Inside was a narrow velvet compartment.
Empty.
Sebastian swore under his breath.
Norah looked around.
“Maybe the compartment was designed to hold something removable.”
“Like what?”
“A document.”
“Or a stone.”
“Or a key.”
Sebastian stared.
Norah touched the back panel.
Something rattled.
She looked at him.
“There.”
He helped her lift the lining.
A thin metal plate had been attached beneath it.
Norah removed it.
A folded sheet of paper fell out.
Sebastian caught it.
The paper was old.
The writing was Evelyn’s.
His hand shook slightly as he recognized it.
Norah saw the change in his face.
“What does it say?”
He read silently.
Then again.
“What?”
Sebastian handed her the page.
The note was short.
Sebastian,
If you are reading this, then I was right to distrust the people closest to us.
Do not trust Victor.
Do not trust Arthur.
And never let the necklace remain in the house.
The original does not hold jewels.
It holds proof.
Love, Mother.
Norah looked up.
“Victor?”
Sebastian’s uncle.
Arthur?
His father.
Sebastian stared at the page.
“My father is dead.”
“I know.”
“Victor is alive.”
“Where is he?”
Sebastian did not answer.
Norah understood.
“You already suspected him.”
“I have suspected everyone.”
“Except yourself?”
His eyes lifted to hers.
“What does that mean?”
“You keep saying your mother died because someone was hiding something.”
“You think I’m responsible?”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“I think you have spent years looking outward because looking inward would hurt too much.”
Sebastian’s expression hardened.
“You know very little about me.”
“I know enough to see grief when it walks into a room.”
His voice dropped.
“Careful.”
Norah’s heart beat faster.
But she did not look away.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“That is a mistake.”
“Maybe.”
Neither moved.
Then Sebastian looked down.
“You should be.”
Before Norah could answer, Luca entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found the car that followed her yesterday.”
Norah turned.
“Where?”
“Abandoned near the river.”
“Any fingerprints?”
“None.”
Luca looked at Sebastian.
“But there was something else.”
He placed a plastic evidence bag on the desk.
Inside was a broken silver lighter.
Norah knew it instantly.
Her father had owned one just like it.
She picked it up.
“That’s his.”
Sebastian watched her.
“You’re sure?”
“My father carried it every day.”
She turned it over.
The initials H.C. were scratched underneath.
Sebastian’s gaze sharpened.
“There’s something engraved inside.”
Norah used tweezers to open the lighter.
A tiny strip of paper had been hidden inside the hinge.
Three words were written on it.
LAKEVIEW 17.
Sebastian frowned.
“A location?”
Norah thought.
“Maybe not.”
She looked at the music box.
“Seventeen could be a date.”
“Lakeview could be a street.”
“Or a person.”
Luca frowned.
“Lakeview is a neighborhood.”
Sebastian already had his phone out.
“Run it.”
Ten minutes later, they had an answer.
There was an abandoned apartment building on Lakeview Avenue, number seventeen.
It had once been owned by a jewelry wholesaler.
The company had been connected to Romano investments decades earlier.
Norah swallowed.
“My father went there.”
Sebastian looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“He once disappeared for two nights when I was sixteen.”
“Why?”
“He said he had a business emergency.”
Sebastian was silent.
“That was fourteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
The same year her father’s reputation collapsed.
The same year Evelyn died.
The same year the Romano necklace vanished.
Three lives crossed at one point.
Norah realized the shape of the truth was much larger than a stolen necklace.
They went to Lakeview that night.
The building had no electricity.
Broken windows stared into an alley.
Sebastian entered first.
Norah followed.
The air smelled of dust and old concrete.
They found apartment seventeen on the fourth floor.
The door was already open.
Someone had been there.
A single lamp glowed in the room.
On the table sat a jewelry box.
Norah approached slowly.
Inside was a photograph.
Her father.
Evelyn.
Victor Romano.
Arthur Romano.
And one more person.
A young Julian Vale.
Norah’s stomach dropped.
“Julian.”
Sebastian’s face turned cold.
“You know him.”
“He owns Laurent & Vale.”
“He knew your father.”
“Yes.”
They heard footsteps behind them.
Sebastian spun.
Victor Romano stood in the doorway.
He was older than Sebastian, elegant, white-haired, and smiling.
“Well,” Victor said.
“I wondered when the children would start digging.”
Sebastian stepped toward him.
“You knew my mother’s necklace was fake.”
Victor smiled.
“I know more than that.”
Norah stared.
“Did you know my father?”
Victor looked at her.
“Henry Collins was a very honorable man.”
“Then why did you let him die believing everyone thought he was a thief?”
Victor’s expression changed.
“I didn’t.”
“Who did?”
Victor glanced toward Sebastian.
“Your father.”
Sebastian’s face went rigid.
Victor continued.
“Arthur needed someone to blame.”
Norah felt the room tilt.
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn had discovered what he had done.”
“What did he do?”
Victor’s smile disappeared.
“He sold the original necklace to someone who was never supposed to receive it.”
Sebastian’s voice became dangerous.
“Who?”
Victor looked at Norah.
“Someone whose name your father wrote down before he disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
Norah stepped forward.
“My father didn’t disappear. He died.”
Victor’s eyes softened.
“Did he?”
The room went cold.
Sebastian moved first.
He grabbed Victor by the collar.
“Say that again.”
Victor did not resist.
“Your mother’s death, Henry’s death, the missing necklace…”
He looked toward Norah.
“…none of those stories ended where you were told they did.”
Then the windows exploded.
Victor was pulled sideways.
Gunshots tore through the apartment.
Sebastian pushed Norah behind a concrete pillar.
Luca fired back.
By the time the shooting stopped, Victor was gone.
Only one thing remained on the floor.
A bloodstained envelope.
Norah picked it up.
Her father’s handwriting appeared on the front.
FOR NORAH — OPEN ONLY WHEN THE ROMANO HEIR FINDS THE TRUTH.
Her hands began shaking.
Sebastian watched her.
“What did he write?”
Norah looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
“Then we find out.”
She opened the envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
A man stood beside a teenage Norah outside a hospital fourteen years ago.
The man’s face was blurred by age and shadow.
But Norah recognized the coat.
The watch.
The hands.
She stared.
“That’s impossible.”
Sebastian stepped closer.
“Who is it?”
May you like
Norah whispered:
“My father.”
