Chapter 3 - The Warning in the Linen Room
The next morning, breakfast was canceled.
Nobody told me why.
At eight, Marco informed the staff that the west garden was temporarily restricted.
At nine, two unfamiliar security officers arrived.
By ten, cameras were being installed near the terrace.
A raccoon had apparently become Chicago’s most wanted animal.
I found Adrian in the library that afternoon.
“You lied.”
He looked up from a file.
“About?”
“The garden.”
“I said nothing about the garden.”
“Exactly.”
He closed the file.
“You should not be here.”
“I work here.”
“In the library?”
“I dust aggressively.”
“Elena.”
There was warning in his voice.
I ignored it.
“Was someone outside?”
Silence.
“Adrian.”
It was the first time I had called him by his first name outside breakfast.
His expression changed.
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
“And they were watching the house?”
“Possibly.”
“Watching me?”
He stood.
“I don't know.”
That was worse than a lie.
He walked toward the windows.
“I can arrange another position for you.”
The words landed harder than they should have.
“You're firing me?”
“No.”
“Sounds remarkably similar.”
“You would receive the same salary. More, if necessary.”
“Where?”
“Another property.”
I understood.
“You want me gone.”
“I want you safe.”
“From what?”
His jaw tightened.
“My world.”
There it was.
Not a denial.
Not an excuse.
I thought about Claire’s warning.
“What happened nine years ago?”
Adrian became completely still.
“Who told you?”
“Nobody. Everyone.”
“Elena.”
“What happened?”
His eyes hardened.
“Do not ask me that again.”
I should have stopped.
Instead I said, “Then stop treating me like I’m standing inside a story everyone knows except me.”
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then Adrian opened the library door.
“You should return to work.”
I left angry.
But underneath the anger was something worse.
Curiosity.
That evening Rosa found me in the kitchen.
“You asked him.”
“How do you know?”
“This house has walls, Elena. It does not have secrets.”
“That seems contradictory.”
She lowered her voice.
“His younger brother was named Luca.”
I stopped.
Rosa glanced toward the hallway.
“He died nine years ago.”
“How?”
“I shouldn't—”
“Please.”
Her eyes filled with sadness.
“Because someone wanted to hurt Adrian.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“They couldn't reach him directly.”
I understood before she finished.
“So they used someone he loved.”
Rosa nodded.
“After Luca died, Adrian changed everything. Security. Business. His life.”
“And relationships.”
“Yes.”
My throat tightened.
Claire had not been warning me about romance.
She had been warning me about leverage.
I barely slept.
The following morning, I found an envelope beneath my bedroom door.
No stamp.
No name.
Inside was a photograph.
Me.
Walking Winston in the garden.
Taken from beyond the wall.
On the back were five handwritten words.
HE CANNOT PROTECT EVERYONE TWICE.
My hands went cold.
I took the photograph straight to Marco.
Within minutes, the mansion changed.
Doors locked.
Radios crackled.
Security swept the grounds.
Adrian arrived last.
Marco handed him the photograph.
I watched Adrian read the message.
Whatever humanity I had learned to recognize in him disappeared.
For several seconds, he looked exactly like the man Chicago whispered about.
Cold.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
Then he looked at me.
“Pack a bag.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I’m not running without knowing what this is.”
“You are leaving tonight.”
“Where?”
“A secure location.”
“Until when?”
“Until I end this.”
The words were quiet.
That made them worse.
I stepped closer.
“Is this connected to Luca?”
His eyes flashed.
“Who told you?”
“It doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“So do I apparently.”
Silence.
I had not meant to say it.
Neither of us could pretend I had not.
Adrian looked away first.
That was when I knew Claire had been right.
I had become important.
And somewhere beyond the mansion walls, somebody already knew it.
But the photograph contained one detail none of us noticed until Marco enlarged it later that night.
In the reflection of the garden window behind me was a man.
May you like
A man Adrian recognized.
A man who, according to every official record, had been dead for nine years.
