Chapter 3 - The Secret House Beyond the Lake
I didn't sleep.
At 4:30 a.m., I called my brother.
He answered groggily.
“Natalie?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you alone?”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Just answer me.”
“Yes.”
“Lock your door.”
He laughed.
“What happened?”
“Please, Noah.”
Something in my voice made him stop joking.
“Okay.”
“Don't leave campus until I say so.”
“Nat, you're scaring me.”
“I know.”
I wanted to tell him everything.
But I knew that if the people threatening me were watching, information was dangerous.
I hung up.
When morning came, Luca was waiting outside my room.
“You should have told me.”
I stared.
“Were you listening?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
He held out his phone.
Security footage.
A man had approached my door at 4:12.
He had slipped the note underneath.
“We caught him outside.”
My heart raced.
“Who is he?”
“An old Moretti associate.”
“Does he know who sent him?”
“He isn't talking.”
Luca stepped closer.
“You're not staying here.”
“What?”
“You're moving to the guest wing.”
“No.”
He frowned.
“Why not?”
“I don't need special treatment.”
“This isn't special treatment.”
“Then what is it?”
“Protection.”
I looked at him.
“I'm a maid.”
“No.”
“What?”
“You're a witness.”
He turned.
“There's a difference.”
Later that morning, he asked me to accompany him to the old Moretti property.
I protested.
“You said protection.”
“You'll be safer with me.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It does to me.”
The drive took two hours.
The estate stood beside a dark lake, surrounded by forest.
Nobody had lived there for years.
The house looked frozen in time.
Luca carried Margaret's documents.
I carried the brass key.
“Why are we here?”
“Because Julian supposedly died here.”
We entered.
Dust covered everything.
The wallpaper was peeling.
The fireplace was cold.
There were photographs on the walls.
Luca stopped beside one.
His father.
His mother.
And a young Vanessa.
I looked at him.
“She knew your family.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“My father introduced her to us.”
“Before Julian?”
“Yes.”
“So she was already connected to your family.”
Luca nodded.
“That may explain why she met you.”
We walked to the back hallway.
The brass key opened a small door.
Behind it was a staircase leading underground.
I stopped.
“No.”
Luca looked at me.
“What?”
“I remember this.”
“What?”
“The scrape on the floor.”
He looked down.
There were fresh marks.
Something heavy had been dragged recently.
“Someone has been here.”
We followed the marks.
They led to a basement room.
Inside were old photographs.
Boxes.
A table.
And a tape recorder.
Luca pressed play.
A man's voice emerged.
Julian.
“If anyone finds this, I'm already gone.”
Margaret had been right.
He had recorded something before disappearing.
“I know Vanessa is working with someone.”
My blood went cold.
“I don't know his name.”
Luca froze.
“But I've seen him with her before.”
A photograph slid from the table.
Vanessa.
Julian.
A third man.
The man's face was partly hidden.
Luca stared.
“Wait.”
He zoomed in on the picture.
His expression changed.
“That can't be.”
“Who?”
He pointed.
“Anthony Moretti.”
I looked at him.
“Who is that?”
“My uncle.”
“Your father's brother?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought he died.”
“So did I.”
The recording continued.
“Anthony knows what happened to the money.”
“What money?” I whispered.
Luca turned off the recorder.
The basement became silent.
“Julian discovered something,” he said.
“What?”
“My family had been laundering money through legitimate companies.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn't know.”
“No.”
“Then why is Anthony involved?”
“I don't know.”
We searched the boxes.
We found bank statements.
Photographs.
Legal records.
Then a newspaper clipping.
Six years ago.
HOUSE FIRE KILLS LOCAL BUSINESSMAN.
The victim was listed as Julian Bell.
But the photograph showed something else.
The body had never been identified visually.
Only dental records.
I looked at Luca.
“Could the records have been falsified?”
“Yes.”
“Then Julian may still be alive.”
He stared at the page.
“That's what Margaret believes.”
A sound came from upstairs.
Footsteps.
Luca immediately pulled me behind him.
Someone entered the house.
Voices.
Two men.
Then another.
Luca whispered:
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Natalie.”
“I can help.”
“How?”
I looked at the old staircase.
“There may be another exit.”
He almost smiled.
“That's why I like having you around.”
We moved through a side corridor.
Behind a wardrobe was a hidden passage.
It opened into the woods.
We slipped outside.
Moments later, the old house erupted with gunfire.
We ran.
A bullet struck the tree beside me.
Luca pulled me down.
“Stay low.”
His arm wrapped around me.
For one strange second, I wasn't thinking about guns.
I was thinking about how safe I felt beside him.
Then he whispered:
“Move.”
We reached the car.
As he drove away, I looked back at the house.
Someone had been waiting for us.
Someone knew we were searching.
“Who?”
Luca shook his head.
“I don't know.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Anthony Moretti.
“If your uncle is alive…”
“He could be behind all of this.”
“What about Vanessa?”
“She was married to Julian.”
“Maybe they worked together.”
“Maybe.”
Then his phone rang.
Daniel.
Luca answered.
“Tell me.”
Daniel listened.
His face changed.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Margaret is gone.”
My blood froze.
“How?”
“She disappeared from the safe location.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Luca ended the call.
“We're going back.”
“To Chicago?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever took Margaret knows we have the photograph.”
I thought about the note beneath my door.
My brother.
The old house.
The hidden recording.
Everything was getting closer.
And I suddenly understood something.
May you like
The enemy wasn't trying to stop us from discovering the truth.
They were trying to control what truth we discovered first.
