Chapter 2 - THE LAKE HOUSE KEY
Adrian Romano stared at the silver chain around his fiancée’s neck.
The key caught the light of the chandelier.
A heavy, antique brass key with a distinct square bow.
It belonged to the front door of the Blackwood Lake property.
A property the Romano family hadn’t unlocked since the day Marcus’s car was pulled from the water.
“Adrian?” Camille’s voice was smooth. Perfect.
She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest.
“The guests are leaving. Are you coming to say goodbye?”
Adrian’s eyes moved from the key to her face.
He didn’t flinch.
He didn’t push her hand away.
He simply smiled. A cold, practiced expression.
“Of course.”
He walked past her, his shoulder lightly brushing hers.
Evan, his head of security, stepped forward, but Adrian gave him a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.
Not now.
Downstairs, I was changing out of my uniform in the staff locker room.
My hands were trembling so badly I could barely manage the buttons of my coat.
My throat throbbed with every breath.
Camille’s grip had been terrifying.
But not as terrifying as the look in the stranger’s eyes when he realized I had heard his name.
I reached into my coat pocket to grab my apartment keys.
My fingers brushed against something else.
Something stiff.
Paper.
I froze.
I pulled it out.
It was a folded piece of heavy cardstock.
It hadn’t been in my pocket when I arrived at work.
Someone had slipped it in while my coat was hanging in the staff room.
I slowly unfolded it under the harsh fluorescent lights.
It was a child’s drawing.
Crayon on thick paper.
A house with a slanted roof. Blue water. A small wooden dock.
And two stick figures holding hands.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I flipped the drawing over.
Written in hurried, jagged black ink were three words:
They have him.
A loud knock on the locker room door made me jump.
I shoved the drawing back into my pocket just as the door swung open.
It was Camille.
She stood in the doorway, her diamond engagement ring catching the light.
She didn’t look angry anymore.
She looked triumphant.
“Hannah,” she said softly. “Pack your things.”
I stepped back. “Excuse me?”
“You’re fired. Effective immediately.”
She pulled a thick envelope from her designer bag and tossed it onto the bench.
“There’s ten thousand dollars in cash in there. A severance package. And a relocation fee.”
I stared at the money.
“I don’t want your money, Miss Laurent.”
“Take it,” she whispered, her voice dropping. “Take it, pack up your apartment, and move your mother out of St. Vincent’s by tomorrow night. If you’re still in New York on Friday, I won’t just get your mother evicted.”
She stepped closer.
“I’ll have her moved to the state ward. You’ll never find her again.”
I stopped breathing.
She turned to leave, but the door was already blocked.
Adrian stood in the frame.
His dark suit seemed to absorb the light in the small room.
“She isn’t going anywhere,” Adrian said quietly.
Camille spun around, her face instantly shifting into a mask of polite concern.
“Adrian. I was just handling a staff issue. She’s clearly unwell—”
“Evan,” Adrian called out without looking away from Camille.
The security chief appeared behind him.
“Escort Miss Laurent to her car,” Adrian ordered.
Camille’s smile shattered. “Adrian, we are getting married in six weeks. You are choosing a maid over me?”
“I’m choosing my house over a liability,” Adrian said. “Goodnight, Camille.”
For a second, Camille looked like she might scream.
Instead, she gave me one last, venomous look, and walked out.
Adrian stepped into the locker room and closed the door.
We were alone.
He looked at my neck. The bruise had darkened to a deep, ugly purple.
“She didn’t fire you,” he said softly.
“She threatened my mother again,” I whispered.
“I told you I would protect your mother.”
I looked down. “You can’t protect her from a ghost, Mr. Romano.”
Adrian went perfectly still.
“What did you say?”
I reached into my pocket.
My hand shook as I pulled out the child’s drawing.
“When I bumped into the man in the corridor,” I said, my voice breaking. “He grabbed my arm. I thought he was hurting me. But he wasn’t.”
I handed Adrian the paper.
“He was putting this in my pocket.”
Adrian took the drawing.
His eyes scanned the crayon house. The water. The dock.
Then, he flipped it over.
They have him.
Adrian’s breathing stopped.
He didn’t look at the words.
He looked at the small, faded stamp on the bottom corner of the paper.
A logo.
“Where did you get this?” Adrian’s voice was suddenly terrifyingly quiet.
“I told you, he put it in my—”
“Hannah.” Adrian looked up, his eyes burning with an emotion I had never seen in him. “This is stationary from the psychiatric ward at St. Jude’s Hospital.”
I stepped back in shock.
“St. Jude’s burned down six years ago,” I whispered.
May you like
Adrian crumpled the paper in his fist.
“I know. My family owned it. And Camille’s father was the head director.”
