Chapter 5: The Room Beneath the House
The first place Vincent Hale went after locking down the mansion was not the kitchen.
It was the basement.
Molly followed at a distance.
She told herself she was only following because she needed answers. Because she was involved now. Because leaving would mean pretending she had not seen what she saw.
But deep down, she knew the truth.
She was afraid.
Not of Vincent.
Not exactly.
She was afraid of what powerful people did when their secrets started falling apart.
She had worked enough jobs to know that money could change the rules. People with influence could make problems disappear. They could make witnesses look guilty. They could turn the truth into something nobody believed.
And Vincent Hale had just discovered someone inside his own home might have tried to murder him.
That kind of discovery could make a person dangerous.
The basement doors opened with a heavy sound.
Molly stopped at the entrance.
The space beneath Hale Manor looked nothing like the rest of the house.
Upstairs was elegance.
Marble floors.
Paintings.
Perfect furniture.
Down here was different.
Cold stone walls.
Old wooden cabinets.
A private archive hidden away from everyone who worked in the mansion.
Vincent walked ahead without hesitation.
“You’ve been down here before?”” Molly asked.
He didn’t turn around.
“Yes.””
“How many people know this room exists?””
Vincent paused.
“Very few.””
That answer bothered her.
Because it meant whoever was trying to hurt him was not a random person.
They knew him.
They knew the house.
They knew where things were hidden.
Vincent reached a large wooden cabinet at the back wall and entered a code.
The doors opened.
Inside were dozens of files.
Molly stared.
“You keep records on everyone?””
Vincent glanced at her.
“No.””
“Then what are these?””
He pulled out an old folder.
“My family.””
The word sounded heavier than it should have.
He placed the folder on a table.
The cover was worn.
Old.
Like it had been opened many times.
Molly noticed his hand linger on it.
“You really loved him.””
Vincent looked at her.
“My father?””
She nodded.
Vincent looked away.
“He was complicated.””
“That usually means there’s more to the story.””
A small smile appeared on his face.
Not because he was happy.
Because she had surprised him.
“You always talk like that?””
“Like what?””
“Like you’re not afraid of who you’re talking to.””
Molly looked around the basement.
“I’m very afraid.””
Vincent raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t seem like it.””
“That’s because being scared and staying quiet are different things.””
For a moment, Vincent said nothing.
Then he opened the folder.
Inside were newspaper articles, business documents, and old photographs.
Molly leaned closer.
One photograph showed a younger Vincent standing beside his father.
The older man had the same sharp eyes.
Same serious expression.
But there was warmth there.
A smile Vincent rarely showed.
“What happened to him?”” Molly asked.
Vincent looked at the photograph.
“Everyone said he died in an accident.””
“But you don’t believe that.””
“No.””
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
Molly waited.
Vincent continued.
“My father was careful. He checked everything twice. He knew every risk before he took it.””
He turned a page.
“The official story was that his car lost control on a mountain road.””
“And you think someone caused it?””
“I know someone did.””
Molly looked at him.
“Why?””
Vincent pointed to a document.
A business report.
“My father was preparing to expose financial crimes connected to people close to him.””
“People like Eleanor?””
Vincent didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
Before Molly could ask another question, a sound came from above.
A door closing.
Both of them froze.
Vincent immediately shut the folder.
“You heard that?””
“Yes.””
He moved toward the stairs.
Molly followed.
“You should stay here.””
“No.””
Vincent looked at her.
“Molly.””
“You need someone who isn’t part of your family watching your back.””
For the first time that night, Vincent looked like he wanted to argue.
But he didn’t.
They moved upstairs quietly.
The mansion felt different now.
Less like a home.
More like a place where every hallway could hide someone.
They reached the dining room.
Empty.
The guards were still stationed near the entrance.
Nobody had left.
Vincent scanned the room.
Then he noticed something.
The plate.
The poisoned plate.
It was gone.
His expression changed.
“Where is it?””
One guard stepped forward.
“We moved it to the kitchen for testing.””
“Who moved it?””
The guard hesitated.
“Chef Adrian.””
Vincent’s face darkened.
“He was never supposed to touch it.””
They rushed toward the kitchen.
The door was open.
Inside, Adrian stood frozen beside the counter.
His hands were empty.
The plate sat in front of him.
But the food was disturbed.
Vincent walked in.
“What did you do?””
Adrian looked terrified.
“I was trying to help.””
“By destroying evidence?””
“I wasn’t destroying anything.””
“Then explain.””
Adrian looked toward Molly.
Then toward Vincent.
“I found something.””
Vincent stepped closer.
“What?””
Adrian pointed at the plate.
“The poison wasn’t mixed into the whole meal.””
Everyone went silent.
“What are you saying?””
Adrian swallowed.
“I’m saying whoever did this knew exactly where you would take a bite.””
Molly felt a chill.
This wasn’t a random attack.
Someone had studied Vincent.
Someone had planned it.
Vincent stared at the plate.
Then slowly looked around the kitchen.
At the counters.
The cabinets.
The people who had worked there.
And suddenly, another thought appeared.
If someone knew exactly how Vincent would eat…
May you like
They had watched him.
For a long time.
