Chapter 3 - THE ROOM JULIAN NEVER OPENED|
Julian ordered everyone out of the living room except Margaret, two trusted guards, and me.
The mansion seemed different after the revelation. The polished marble, the enormous paintings, and the gold-framed mirrors no longer looked like symbols of wealth. They looked like a stage built to hide something rotten behind the walls.
Julian stood beside the fireplace, staring at the brass key in my hand.
"My father never mentioned a safe," he said.
"Perhaps he didn't want you to know about it," Margaret replied.
"He told me everything that mattered."
"Did he?"
Julian turned toward her.
The look in his eyes made one of the guards shift uneasily.
"Choose your next words carefully."
Margaret didn't flinch.
"You spent your childhood believing he built an empire through hard work and clever investments. You never asked why certain shipping companies vanished after doing business with him. You never asked why men who disagreed with him suddenly left the country. You believed what he wanted you to believe."
"And you think you know the truth?"
"I know he kept secrets from both of us."
Julian looked away.
I had never seen him challenged like this. Even when I believed him confined to his wheelchair, he had commanded every room with a single glance. Now his sister spoke to him as though his authority were a costume she had grown tired of watching him wear.
"Show me the room," I said.
Both siblings looked at me.
Julian's expression hardened.
"You don't give orders here."
"No, but it's my father's key."
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then Julian walked toward the staircase.
"Come with me."
We climbed to the second floor, past portraits of Cross family members whose painted eyes seemed to follow us. At the end of the corridor stood a set of double doors, darker than the surrounding wood.
Julian stopped.
"This was my childhood bedroom."
"Why is it locked?" I asked.
"Because I don't use it."
He pulled a key from his pocket and opened the doors.
The room smelled of cedar, dust, and something faintly metallic. A large bed stood against one wall. Shelves held old trophies, books, and a collection of model ships. A framed photograph showed Julian as a boy standing beside his father, a stern-looking man with silver hair and a smile that seemed more like a warning.
I walked slowly around the room.
My father had been here.
The realization made my stomach tighten.
Julian watched me examine the shelves.
"Do you remember anything about your father that might help us?" he asked.
"He liked fixing things. He hated hospitals. He used to whistle when he was worried."
"Anything about this family?"
I shook my head.
"He never mentioned you."
Julian's expression shifted, just slightly.
"That doesn't surprise me."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because my father trusted very few people. When he did, he usually made them regret it."
He moved a bookcase away from the wall. Behind it was a narrow wooden panel, almost invisible beneath the wallpaper.
I inserted the brass key into a small lock.
It turned.
The panel opened with a soft click, revealing a steel safe embedded in the wall.
Julian stared at it.
For the first time since I had met him, he seemed genuinely uncertain.
Margaret had followed us upstairs. She stood behind my shoulder, holding her breath.
"Open it," she whispered.
I turned the key.
Nothing happened.
Julian examined the lock and pressed a small button near the lower hinge. A digital display flickered to life, asking for a six-digit code.
I stepped back.
"I don't know the code."
Margaret looked at me.
"Your father said the answer would be something you both remembered."
I searched my mind.
My father had taught me to ride a bicycle in an empty parking lot. He had built a wooden birdhouse with me when I was nine. He had once driven three hours through a snowstorm to bring me a birthday cake after my mother and I moved away.
But none of those memories suggested a six-digit number.
Then I remembered the day he disappeared.
It had been October 14.
I entered 101407.
The safe beeped.
The display turned green.
A heavy internal mechanism clicked, and the door swung open.
Inside lay a sealed envelope, a black notebook, and a small flash drive.
Julian reached for the notebook.
I caught his wrist.
"Don't."
His gray eyes narrowed.
"You're standing in my house."
"And that's my father's property."
For one tense moment, I thought he might force me to release him.
Then he slowly lowered his hand.
"Fine. Open the envelope."
My fingers trembled as I broke the seal.
Inside was a letter addressed to me.
The first line made my knees weaken.
Elena, if you are reading this, the man who raised you is not the only person who has been lying about your family.
I read the sentence again.
Then I looked at Julian.
He had gone pale.
Because beneath my father's signature was another name.
Victor Cross.
Julian's father.
May you like
And below it, written in a different hand, were six words that changed everything.
Your mother did not die naturally.
