CHAPTER 2 THE WOMAN IN THE HALLWAY
The scream came again.
This time, it was closer.
A woman's voice.
Sharp.
Terrified.
Then silence.
I looked at Richard.
He was already moving.
Not quickly.
Not confidently.
But on his own two feet.
He pushed himself upright, one hand gripping the edge of the bed while the other held the gun low against his thigh.
I stared at him.
Eight months.
Eight months of watching this man being pushed through hallways in a wheelchair.
Eight months of hearing people call him helpless.
And yet here he was.
Standing.
Breathing.
Armed.
And terrified.
“Stay behind me,” he whispered.
I nodded.
We moved toward the bedroom door.
Richard stopped before touching the handle.
He looked at me.
“If I tell you to run, don't hesitate.”
“Where?”
“Kitchen. There's a service exit behind the pantry.”
“And you?”
“I'll follow.”
“You're injured.”
His expression hardened.
“I've been injured for eight months.”
He slowly opened the door.
The hallway was dark.
Only the emergency lights along the floor were glowing.
The mansion looked completely different without its chandeliers.
Cold.
Empty.
Predatory.
Richard stepped into the hallway.
I followed.
We had barely taken three steps when he stopped.
I nearly walked into him.
“What?”
He pointed downward.
A small smear of blood marked the marble floor.
Fresh.
My stomach twisted.
“Someone's hurt.”
Richard crouched.
He touched the blood with two fingers.
Then examined it.
“Still warm.”
A noise came from downstairs.
A chair scraping against the floor.
Then a man's voice.
“Mom?”
Ethan.
Richard's jaw tightened.
We moved toward the staircase.
I expected Richard to struggle.
Instead, he descended slowly, one hand on the railing.
Step.
Step.
Step.
His breathing became heavier, but he continued.
Halfway down, he stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Listen.”
We heard footsteps below.
Two people.
One moving quickly.
Another dragging something.
Then Chloe's voice.
“Eleanor!”
Richard's expression changed.
“Something happened to my mother.”
We descended the remaining stairs.
The grand foyer came into view.
Ethan stood beside the console table.
His shirt was torn.
There was blood on his sleeve.
Chloe was crouched beside Eleanor, who was lying on the marble floor.
I gasped.
“Mrs. Vance!”
Chloe looked up.
For one split second, genuine fear flashed across her face.
Then it disappeared.
“Maya?”
Ethan turned.
His eyes landed on Richard.
Then on Richard's legs.
The color drained from his face.
It lasted less than a second.
But I saw it.
Richard saw it too.
Ethan recovered immediately.
“Richard?”
His voice cracked.
“How did you get down here?”
Richard said nothing.
He simply raised the gun.
Ethan froze.
“Don't come any closer.”
Chloe stared at the weapon.
“Richard, what are you doing?”
“Where's my mother?”
“She fell.”
Richard looked at Eleanor.
“That's not blood from a fall.”
Chloe's face tightened.
“You're confused.”
“I'm not.”
Ethan stepped forward.
Richard raised the gun higher.
“Stop.”
Ethan stopped.
For the first time, I saw the brothers clearly.
They didn't look like family.
They looked like enemies who had spent years pretending otherwise.
“What happened?” I asked.
Ethan looked at me.
“Someone broke into the house.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
“Where's security?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Offline.”
Richard gave a humorless smile.
“Convenient.”
Ethan's face hardened.
“You're in no condition to accuse me.”
Richard looked down at his own legs.
Then back at his brother.
“I'm in better condition than you think.”
Silence.
Chloe slowly stood.
“Maya, call an ambulance.”
I reached for my phone.
Richard stopped me.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Eleanor needs medical attention.”
“I know.”
“Then why aren't we calling?”
“Because the person who attacked her may still be inside.”
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
“There is no one inside.”
Richard looked at him.
“Then why are you bleeding?”
Ethan glanced at his sleeve.
“This?”
He touched it.
“I cut myself on broken glass.”
Richard didn't respond.
Instead, he walked toward his mother.
Ethan's eyes followed every step.
I noticed something.
He wasn't surprised Richard could walk.
He was afraid.
Not confused.
Afraid.
That realization hit me like a slap.
Ethan already knew.
Maybe not for six months.
Maybe not for eight.
But he knew Richard could walk.
I looked at him.
“You knew.”
Ethan stared at me.
“What?”
“You knew Richard wasn't paralyzed.”
The room went silent.
Chloe looked at Ethan.
Ethan looked at Richard.
Then Richard said quietly:
“Don't.”
I didn't understand.
Richard's gaze remained fixed on his brother.
“You don't want to ask that question yet.”
“Why?”
“Because the answer will change everything.”
Before I could respond, Eleanor groaned.
Her eyes fluttered open.
Richard dropped beside her.
“Mother.”
Eleanor stared at him.
Then at me.
Her lips moved.
“Don't…”
Richard leaned closer.
“Don't what?”
Her fingers grabbed his wrist.
“Trust…”
She struggled for breath.
“Who?”
Her eyes shifted toward Ethan.
Then Chloe.
Then me.
Her expression filled with terror.
“Trust…”
Her voice faded.
“Valerie.”
I froze.
Richard's head snapped toward me.
Ethan's face went completely blank.
Chloe whispered:
“That's impossible.”
Richard stood.
“What did you say?”
Eleanor's eyes closed.
Richard looked at Ethan.
“What does Valerie have to do with this?”
Ethan didn't answer.
“Ethan.”
Still nothing.
Richard's voice became colder.
“Answer me.”
“I don't know.”
“Liar.”
Ethan's face hardened.
“You've been sitting in that wheelchair for eight months, Richard. You don't get to suddenly appear downstairs with a gun and accuse everyone.”
Richard smiled.
“I think I do.”
Then he turned to me.
“Maya, go upstairs.”
“What?”
“Now.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You're not safe here.”
“I know.”
Richard stared at me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Eleanor's hand suddenly tightened around my wrist.
I crouched beside her.
“Mrs. Vance?”
Her eyes opened.
She looked directly at me.
“Maya…”
“Yes?”
“Your father…”
My heart stopped.
“What about my father?”
Eleanor's eyes widened.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
She tried to speak.
No sound came.
Then her head rolled sideways.
“Mrs. Vance!”
Chloe rushed forward.
“She passed out.”
Richard stood frozen.
I looked at him.
“What did she mean?”
He didn't answer.
“Richard.”
“My mother knew your father.”
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
“What?”
“She knew him.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying again.”
He looked at me.
“No.”
“You said you didn't know anything about my father.”
“I didn't.”
“Then how did your mother know him?”
Richard's jaw tightened.
“That's what we're going to find out.”
Ethan suddenly stepped toward us.
“You're both asking the wrong questions.”
Richard turned.
“What does that mean?”
Ethan looked at me.
“Your father wasn't a random patient.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“What was he?”
Ethan swallowed.
“He was one of the first.”
Richard's expression became terrifyingly still.
“One of the first what?”
Ethan didn't answer.
“Say it.”
“Level 7.”
I stared at him.
Richard slowly lowered the gun.
“What do you know?”
“Enough.”
“Then tell us.”
Ethan shook his head.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Because this house isn't secure.”
Richard laughed softly.
“That's what I've been saying.”
Ethan looked at me.
“You need to leave.”
I almost laughed.
“Your brother just told me the same thing.”
“He's right.”
“Why?”
Ethan looked toward the ceiling.
“Because whoever attacked my mother wasn't trying to kill her.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“They were looking for something.”
Richard's eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“A file.”
“What file?”
Ethan looked at Richard.
“Your father's file.”
I froze.
“My father?”
Ethan nodded.
“Julian Torres.”
Richard's expression changed.
“Why would anyone want his file?”
“Because it contains the original Level 7 results.”
My heart pounded.
“What results?”
Ethan looked at me.
“The truth about what Vitalis did to those patients.”
Richard stepped toward him.
“What did Vitalis do?”
Ethan looked away.
“I don't know everything.”
“You know enough.”
“I know people were experimented on.”
Richard's face hardened.
“And my father?”
“Your father was one of the doctors.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
Ethan looked at me.
“He wasn't just a patient.”
The words struck me like a physical blow.
“My father was a doctor?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Ethan hesitated.
“He was a consultant.”
Richard looked confused.
“Why would a stroke patient be a consultant?”
Ethan shook his head.
“He wasn't the patient.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
Ethan looked directly at me.
“Julian Torres wasn't enrolled as a patient.”
My hands began to tremble.
“Then why does his name appear under patient records?”
Ethan didn't answer.
Richard did.
“Because someone wanted him to disappear.”
A long silence followed.
Then a sound came from upstairs.
Click.
A door closing.
Everyone looked up.
Ethan whispered:
“Someone's upstairs.”
Richard raised his gun.
“Stay here.”
I grabbed his arm.
“You can't go alone.”
“I have to.”
“No.”
Richard looked at me.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
He stared at me for a moment.
Then nodded.
We started toward the staircase.
Ethan followed.
Chloe stayed beside Eleanor.
As we reached the second floor, Richard stopped.
“Which room?”
Ethan pointed.
“My study.”
Richard looked at him.
“Why would someone be in your study?”
Ethan didn't answer.
Richard opened the door.
The room was dark.
Drawers had been pulled open.
Documents were scattered across the floor.
A painting hung crookedly on the wall.
Someone had searched the room.
Richard stepped inside.
“Nothing.”
Ethan walked toward the desk.
Then froze.
“What?”
He pointed.
The center drawer was open.
Empty.
“What was inside?” Richard asked.
Ethan hesitated.
“My father's research journal.”
Richard's expression changed.
“Your father?”
“Our father.”
Richard stared at him.
“I thought Dad's records were destroyed.”
“They were supposed to be.”
“Then why did you have his journal?”
“Because I found it.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
Richard took a step toward him.
“And you didn't tell me?”
“You were in a coma.”
“After I woke up.”
Ethan looked away.
“I didn't know who to trust.”
Richard laughed.
“You've had six months.”
Ethan suddenly looked at me.
“I was waiting for someone.”
“Who?”
“Valerie.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does Valerie have to do with your father?”
Ethan's expression darkened.
“She knows what happened.”
Richard moved closer.
“Then where is she?”
Ethan looked at his phone.
“I don't know.”
Richard snatched it.
There were several missed calls.
One number had no name.
Richard stared at it.
“Call it.”
Ethan hesitated.
“Call it.”
He did.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then someone answered.
No one spoke.
Richard took the phone.
“Valerie?”
Silence.
Then a woman's whisper.
“Richard?”
He froze.
“Yes.”
“I know you're alive.”
Richard's eyes sharpened.
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Who attacked my mother?”
Silence.
“Valerie.”
“You shouldn't have hired Maya.”
My blood ran cold.
Richard looked at me.
“Why?”
“She knows too much.”
The call disconnected.
Richard stared at the screen.
Then the phone rang again.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A man's voice came through.
“You should have stayed in that wheelchair.”
Richard's face hardened.
“Who is this?”
“You're making a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Trusting the nurse.”
Richard glanced at me.
“She isn't a nurse.”
The voice laughed.
“Whatever she is, she's next.”
The call ended.
I stared at Richard.
“Who was that?”
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at the floor.
A small black object lay beneath the desk.
He crouched.
Picked it up.
A USB drive.
Written across it in permanent marker were four characters:
J.T.-07
My father's initials.
And the number of the secret program.
Richard looked at me.
“I think we just found the reason your father died.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“My father died four years ago.”
Richard's voice was quiet.
“I know.”
“Then what do you mean?”
He held up the drive.
“I mean someone has been protecting this secret for four years.”
A loud crash came from downstairs.
Then another.
Eleanor screamed.
Richard and I ran.
When we reached the foyer, Chloe was gone.
Ethan was standing beside the open front door.
And Eleanor's wheelchair was overturned.
I rushed toward her.
“Mrs. Vance!”
She was conscious.
Barely.
Her hand was clutching something.
A small photograph.
I took it.
It showed four people standing outside a hospital.
Eleanor.
A younger Richard.
Ethan.
And my father.
I stared at the picture.
My father's face was unmistakable.
But something else caught my attention.
Written on the back were six words.
HE KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING.
I looked at Richard.
“Your mother knew my father.”
Richard nodded.
“She did.”
“And Ethan knew.”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
Richard's eyes moved toward the open door.
“Valerie.”
“Anyone else?”
He looked at me.
Then his expression changed.
“Maya…”
“What?”
“There are five names on the Level 7 project.”
I waited.
“Richard Vance.”
“Eleanor Vance.”
“Julian Torres.”
“Valerie Grant.”
“And…”
He stopped.
“Who?”
Richard looked at the photograph.
Then at me.
“Your ex-husband.”
My heart stopped.
“Miguel?”
Richard nodded.
“Yes.”
The room seemed to spin.
“No.”
Richard stepped closer.
“Maya, there's something you need to know.”
“What?”
“Miguel wasn't having an affair with Valerie.”
I stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
Richard's voice dropped.
“He was investigating her.”
I shook my head.
“The message…”
“She sent it because she knew you were watching.”
“Then why did Miguel lie?”
“Because he was trying to protect you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Protect me?”
Richard nodded.
“He knew about Level 7.”
I stared at him.
“Then why did he let me believe he cheated?”
Richard looked toward the dark hallway.
“Because if you hated him…”
He paused.
“…you wouldn't follow him.”
My breath caught.
“What does that mean?”
Richard looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.
“Your divorce wasn't an accident, Maya.”
He held up the USB drive.
“Someone wanted you alone.”
A cold realization settled over me.
Ofelia's words.
You'll finally realize how brutal it is to survive without my son.
My divorce.
My father's mysterious medical records.
Miguel's affair.
Valerie.
Richard's accident.
The mansion.
The fake paralysis.
None of it was random.
Someone had been moving pieces around me for years.
And somehow—
I was one of those pieces.
Then my phone vibrated.
I looked down.
A message appeared from an unknown number.
STOP LOOKING FOR YOUR FATHER.
Another message arrived immediately.
OR YOU'LL JOIN HIM.
Then a photograph appeared.
I opened it.
My blood turned to ice.
It was a picture of me.
Taken that afternoon.
Standing outside Richard's bedroom.
Taken from inside the mansion.
Someone had been watching me.
The entire time.
And beneath the photograph was one final sentence:
WE KNOW WHERE YOU SLEEP.
I slowly looked up.
Richard was staring at me.
He already understood.
May you like
Someone wasn't trying to scare us anymore.
They had just declared war.
