CHAPTER 3 THE LOCKED STUDY
The message remained on my screen.
WE KNOW WHERE YOU SLEEP.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
My fingers went numb around the phone.
Across from me, Richard said nothing.
He didn't need to.
The look in his eyes told me he understood exactly what that message meant.
This wasn't a warning from someone watching the mansion from outside.
It was a message from someone who had access to the house.
Someone who had been close enough to photograph me.
Someone who knew where I slept.
Someone who knew exactly what Richard had shown me.
I looked toward the staircase.
“Who took that picture?”
Richard's voice was quiet.
“Someone who wants you frightened.”
“They're succeeding.”
“Good.”
I stared at him.
“Good?”
“If you're frightened, you'll be careful.”
“I thought you wanted me to stay calm.”
“I want you alive.”
The words were simple.
But something about the way he said them made my chest tighten.
Before I could answer, Ethan suddenly appeared from the hallway.
“What's wrong?”
Richard immediately stepped between him and me.
“Nothing.”
Ethan frowned.
“You're both acting strange.”
“Where's Chloe?” Richard asked.
“She went upstairs.”
“Which room?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Why?”
Richard's expression hardened.
“Answer me.”
“The guest wing.”
Richard glanced at me.
Then back at Ethan.
“Go find her.”
Ethan didn't move.
“Richard—”
“Now.”
Ethan finally walked away.
I watched him disappear around the corner.
Then I whispered, “You don't trust him.”
“No.”
“You think he knows who sent the message.”
“I think he knows more than he's telling us.”
“And Chloe?”
“Same.”
I looked at Eleanor.
She was still unconscious on the sofa.
“We need an ambulance.”
Richard nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then why haven't you called?”
“Because I need to know whether the emergency line is compromised.”
I stared at him.
“How could an emergency line be compromised?”
“Because the last time I called for help, someone arrived before the ambulance.”
I frowned.
“What happened?”
Richard looked at the bloodstain on the marble floor.
“They weren't paramedics.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who were they?”
“People wearing paramedic uniforms.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“They injected me with something.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Something that stopped my muscles from responding.”
My breath caught.
“That's why you couldn't move?”
“For a while.”
Richard's jaw tightened.
“Then I realized they weren't treating me.”
He looked toward the front door.
“They were making sure I looked paralyzed.”
A cold shiver ran down my back.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“But someone paid them.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Richard looked at me.
“That is what I've spent eight months trying to discover.”
A faint sound came from the sofa.
Eleanor stirred.
Richard immediately approached her.
“Mother?”
Her eyes opened halfway.
She looked at me.
Then Richard.
Then the photograph still clutched in my hand.
Her expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“You were holding it.”
Eleanor's eyes widened.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
Richard answered for me.
Eleanor stared at her son.
“Richard…”
“Why were you with Julian?”
Her face went pale.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
Eleanor looked toward the hallway.
“Not here.”
Richard's expression hardened.
“Everyone in this house already knows enough.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Not everyone.”
Her eyes moved toward the ceiling.
“There are things even Ethan doesn't know.”
Richard crouched beside her.
“Then tell me.”
Eleanor swallowed.
“Your father wasn't working for Vitalis.”
Richard frowned.
“What?”
“He was working against it.”
The room went silent.
I stepped closer.
“My father?”
Eleanor looked at me.
“Julian discovered what Level 7 was really being used for.”
“What was it?”
She closed her eyes.
“I don't know.”
“You knew him.”
“I knew what he suspected.”
“What did he suspect?”
Eleanor's hands began trembling.
“That Vitalis wasn't developing treatments.”
Richard's voice became cold.
“Then what were they developing?”
Eleanor looked directly at him.
“Control.”
I felt a chill.
“Control of what?”
“The human nervous system.”
Silence.
Richard slowly stood.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Your father found evidence.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“Because he was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.
“Of the people who owned the program.”
Richard stared at her.
“Who?”
Eleanor opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
A faint clicking sound came from somewhere above us.
She looked toward the ceiling.
Her face drained of color.
“They're listening.”
Richard immediately stood.
“Everyone out.”
Ethan returned from the hallway.
“What's happening?”
“Where's Chloe?”
“She isn't upstairs.”
Richard's expression hardened.
“What do you mean?”
“I checked the guest wing. She's gone.”
“Gone where?”
“I don't know.”
Richard looked at me.
Then at Eleanor.
“Lock the front doors.”
Ethan nodded.
But before he could move, every light in the mansion went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
I heard Eleanor gasp.
Then something crashed upstairs.
Richard grabbed my wrist.
“Stay with me.”
I could barely see his face.
“What happened?”
“The power.”
“Did someone shut it off?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the backup generator should have activated.”
A metallic sound echoed from the hallway.
Richard froze.
“What was that?”
He whispered:
“Someone just opened the security room.”
I felt my heart hammer.
“Who?”
Richard pulled me behind him.
“I don't know.”
A flashlight appeared at the far end of the corridor.
Someone was coming toward us.
Richard raised the gun.
“Stop.”
The flashlight went out.
A figure disappeared into darkness.
Richard moved forward.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
He looked back.
“Maya.”
“I’m coming.”
For the first time, something resembling admiration crossed his face.
Then he nodded.
We followed the corridor.
The security room door was open.
Inside, monitors flickered.
Most screens showed static.
One showed the kitchen.
Another showed the driveway.
Another showed my bedroom.
I froze.
“My room.”
Richard stared at the monitor.
The camera angle was unmistakable.
Someone had installed a hidden camera inside my bedroom.
“When?”
“I don't know.”
I stepped closer.
The footage was live.
My bed.
My suitcase.
My father's photograph on the nightstand.
I felt sick.
Then I noticed something.
The camera feed had a timestamp.
11:42 PM.
That was twenty minutes earlier.
I looked at Richard.
“They were watching me tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Richard stared at the screen.
“Because you found your father's file.”
A sound came from behind us.
We turned.
No one.
Then the door slammed shut.
Richard rushed toward it.
Locked.
I heard breathing.
Not mine.
Not Richard's.
Someone was on the other side.
Richard pulled the door handle.
“Open it.”
No answer.
Then a whisper came through the wood.
“Maya.”
I froze.
It was a woman's voice.
I recognized it.
“Valerie?”
Silence.
Then:
“Don't trust Richard.”
My stomach dropped.
Richard looked at me.
I looked at him.
The voice continued.
“He's lying to you.”
Richard's expression became unreadable.
“Valerie, open the door.”
“You don't understand what he did.”
Richard's jaw tightened.
“What did I do?”
“You know.”
“I don't.”
“You killed him.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who?”
Silence.
Then Valerie whispered:
“Julian.”
I looked at Richard.
“No.”
Valerie's voice trembled.
“Your father didn't die from his stroke.”
My entire body went cold.
“What?”
Richard looked at me.
Valerie continued.
“Someone made sure he couldn't tell you the truth.”
I pressed my hand against the door.
“Valerie, what happened to my father?”
“You have to get out.”
“Tell me!”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because they're here.”
“Who?”
Valerie gasped.
Then the line went silent.
I heard footsteps.
Several pairs.
Then a muffled struggle.
Richard immediately stepped back.
“Move away from the door.”
“What?”
“Now.”
I obeyed.
Three seconds later—
BANG!
The door shook.
Someone was trying to force it open.
Richard grabbed a metal chair and wedged it beneath the handle.
“There's another exit.”
“Where?”
He pointed toward the wall.
A narrow maintenance door.
We rushed toward it.
Richard opened it.
A dark passage stretched behind the security room.
“Where does that lead?”
“The old service tunnels.”
“You knew about these?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I built part of them.”
We entered.
Richard closed the door behind us.
The darkness swallowed us.
I followed the sound of his breathing.
After several seconds, he whispered:
“Keep your phone off.”
“Why?”
“They can track the signal.”
I switched it off.
We continued.
The passage smelled of dust and damp stone.
Then Richard stopped.
“What?”
He pointed.
A metal door stood ahead.
There was a keypad.
Richard entered a code.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
“What's wrong?”
“Someone changed the code.”
I looked at him.
“Can we break it?”
“Not without making noise.”
A faint sound echoed behind us.
Footsteps.
They had entered the tunnel.
Richard looked at me.
“Run.”
We ran.
The passage narrowed.
My shoulder scraped against the wall.
Behind us, voices shouted.
“Find them!”
“They can't be far!”
Richard grabbed my hand.
“Left.”
We turned sharply.
A second passage opened ahead.
Then another.
It felt like a maze.
“How do you know where you're going?”
“I designed it.”
“That's reassuring.”
He almost smiled.
Then—
A gunshot echoed.
I screamed.
Richard pulled me down.
“Keep moving.”
We ran again.
Finally, we reached a steel door.
Richard pushed it open.
We emerged into a small underground garage.
A black SUV was parked inside.
Richard stared at it.
“That shouldn't be here.”
“Whose is it?”
He walked toward it.
The driver's door was open.
A phone lay on the seat.
It was ringing.
Richard stopped.
“Don't touch it.”
I stared.
The phone continued ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then stopped.
A message appeared.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN THE WHEELCHAIR.
Richard's face hardened.
Another message appeared.
SHE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO FIND OUT ABOUT HER FATHER.
My heart stopped.
“Richard…”
He looked at me.
A third message appeared.
ASK HER WHAT SHE REMEMBERS ABOUT THE NIGHT JULIAN DIED.
I stared at the screen.
“What does that mean?”
Richard looked at me.
“I don't know.”
Then something clicked inside my memory.
A sound.
A smell.
A night from four years ago.
My father lying in his bed.
A nurse standing beside him.
A strange man in a dark coat.
And Miguel arriving at the house at nearly midnight.
I had forgotten.
Or maybe—
I had forced myself to forget.
I looked at Richard.
“Miguel came that night.”
Richard's expression changed.
“What?”
“The night my father died.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“I don't remember.”
“Try.”
I closed my eyes.
Memory came in fragments.
Miguel's voice.
My father's oxygen machine.
A glass of water.
A door closing.
Then a sentence.
Something Miguel had whispered to me.
I opened my eyes.
“He told me my father had asked for him.”
Richard stared at me.
“Did your father?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you see them together?”
“No.”
“Then how did Miguel know your father wanted him?”
“I don't know.”
Richard looked toward the tunnel.
“We need to get out.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere they can't find us.”
“Where?”
He thought for a moment.
Then his eyes shifted toward the SUV.
“My old office.”
“You said the company wasn't safe.”
“It isn't.”
“Then why go there?”
“Because there's something in my office that they don't know about.”
“What?”
Richard opened the driver's door.
“A backup.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
We got inside.
Richard started the engine.
The garage door opened automatically.
As we drove out, I looked back at the mansion.
The enormous house stood silent beneath the moonlight.
Beautiful.
Expensive.
And suddenly terrifying.
I realized something.
The people inside that house had been lying to me.
But Richard had been lying too.
He hadn't told me everything.
And now I wasn't sure which secret frightened me more.
The one his family was hiding—
or the one Richard was still keeping from me.
Thirty minutes later, we arrived at an abandoned medical research facility on the outskirts of Chicago.
The building looked deserted.
No lights.
No security guards.
No cars.
Richard parked behind a loading dock.
“This is your old office?”
“Not exactly.”
He opened a hidden door.
Inside was a private archive.
Rows of locked cabinets.
Old servers.
Boxes of documents.
And a wall covered with photographs.
I walked closer.
My breath stopped.
There were pictures of Level 7 patients.
Doctors.
Executives.
Research facilities.
And then—
my father.
He was standing beside Richard's father.
But there was another person in the photograph.
Someone I knew.
Someone I had trusted.
My knees nearly gave out.
“Richard…”
He turned.
I pointed.
“That's Miguel.”
Richard looked at the photograph.
His face became pale.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Richard stepped closer.
The photograph was dated four years earlier.
Miguel was standing beside my father and two Level 7 researchers.
On the back, someone had written:
FINAL MEETING BEFORE SUBJECT TRANSFER.
I looked at Richard.
“What subject?”
Richard didn't answer.
I turned the photograph over.
Underneath the first message was another line.
SUBJECT: MAYA TORRES.
The room went silent.
I stared at my own name.
“Maya…”
Richard's voice was barely audible.
I looked up.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“I think Level 7 wasn't studying your father.”
My blood ran cold.
“Then who?”
Richard looked at me.
“You.”
I couldn't speak.
He continued.
“Your father wasn't the patient.”
“He was protecting you.”
I shook my head.
“Why would anyone experiment on me?”
Richard looked toward the archive.
“I don't know.”
Then the lights flickered.
The old server suddenly turned on by itself.
A single file appeared on the screen.
MAYA TORRES — LEVEL 7
Richard stared at it.
I stepped closer.
The file opened.
One sentence appeared.
SUBJECT MEMORY ALTERATION: SUCCESSFUL.
My blood froze.
I looked at Richard.
“What does that mean?”
Before he could answer, another line appeared.
SUBJECT DOES NOT REMEMBER THE NIGHT OF THE ACCIDENT.
I frowned.
“My father's accident?”
Richard shook his head.
“No.”
He stared at the screen.
“Your accident.”
I stepped backward.
“I've never been in an accident.”
Richard slowly turned toward me.
“That is what they wanted you to believe.”
The screen suddenly went black.
May you like
Then one final message appeared.
WELCOME BACK, MAYA.
