Chapter 3 - THE ROOM BENEATH THE HOUSEVictor refused to leave Ethan unprotected.
He moved the entire pediatric floor under Blackwood security before we returned to the mansion.
Evelyn stayed with Ethan.
I should have stayed too.
I wanted to.
But my father's blood had been found inside a room sealed fifteen years ago.
There are truths a person can avoid.
That was not one of them.
The mansion looked different when we arrived.
Black SUVs lined the circular drive.
Men searched hedges.
Security lights flooded the lawn.
Every employee stood inside the ballroom with phones confiscated and identities being checked.
The house I had lived in for six months no longer felt like a home.
It felt exposed.
Victor led me downstairs.
Marcus followed.
The old nursery was beneath the west wing.
Victor explained that his mother had designed it as a storm-safe children's room when he and Evelyn were young.
After her death, their father locked it.
Victor had not entered in twenty-three years.
The steel door stood open.
Blood marked the floor.
I stopped.
Three squeezes.
My father's hand.
Three squeezes.
I love you.
“Annalise.”
Victor's voice brought me back.
“I can do this.”
“I didn't say you couldn't.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking you look like you're about to faint.”
“I don't faint.”
Marcus glanced at Victor.
Victor ignored him.
We entered.
The room smelled like dust and bleach.
A child's wallpaper still covered the walls.
Tiny painted stars.
Clouds.
A faded moon.
And beneath them sat modern equipment.
Monitors.
Medication storage.
A narrow cot.
Restraints.
My stomach turned.
Victor stared.
“This was inside my house.”
Marcus said nothing.
On the far wall were photographs.
Ethan.
Victor.
Evelyn.
Me.
Dozens of me.
At the grocery store.
At the park.
Leaving my old apartment.
One photograph was eight years old.
I knew because I was wearing the uniform from the diner where I worked after leaving foster care.
Victor took it from the wall.
“She watched you for years.”
“Yes.”
A sound came from behind us.
A security officer entered.
“Mr. Blackwood.”
Victor turned.
“We found a hidden access tunnel.”
“Where does it lead?”
“Old service road.”
Celeste was gone.
Of course she was.
But I barely heard them.
I had found something on the cot.
A cassette recorder.
Old.
Cheap.
The kind my father used.
My hands shook as I pressed play.
Static.
Then a man's voice.
“Annalise.”
I dropped the recorder.
Victor caught it before it hit the floor.
I couldn't breathe.
My father's voice filled the room.
“If you're hearing this, then Celeste found you.”
Fifteen years disappeared.
I was eleven again.
My father was alive.
“I need you to understand something. I am sorry.”
I covered my mouth.
Victor stood beside me.
Not touching.
Just there.
“I thought I could expose Haven. I was wrong. It is older than the foundation. Richer. Better protected.”
Static cracked.
“Celeste is not the head.”
Victor's eyes met mine.
“She is a recruiter.”
The tape continued.
“She finds families with power. She enters their homes. She creates fear. Then Haven offers protection from the danger Haven created.”
Marcus swore.
My father coughed.
“If Celeste has chosen you, Annalise, it means she needs something only you can give her.”
The tape clicked.
For three seconds, silence.
Then my father said, “The Vale Key.”
I stared at the recorder.
I had never heard those words.
Victor asked, “What is that?”
“I don't know.”
The recording continued.
“You don't know you have it. I made sure of that.”
My knees weakened.
Victor caught my elbow.
This time, I did not pull away.
“The key is hidden in the only memory Celeste cannot take from you.”
The tape stopped.
That was it.
Marcus turned the recorder over.
“No second side.”
I laughed.
A broken sound.
“Of course.”
Victor looked at me.
“What memory?”
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
I turned on him.
“I just heard my dead father's voice.”
Victor stepped back.
Regret crossed his face.
I hated that I noticed.
Marcus moved to the wall.
“Boss.”
He pointed to a photograph of Ethan.
A red X had been drawn over the baby's chest.
Beneath it were three words.
PHASE TWO COMPLETE.
Victor ripped the photograph down.
Then the mansion alarms began.
Not security alarms.
Fire.
Smoke rolled beneath the nursery door.
Marcus shouted.
Victor grabbed my hand.
We ran.
The hallway above us was already burning.
Someone had ignited the west wing.
Not randomly.
They were destroying evidence.
A beam crashed behind us.
Victor pushed me ahead.
“Move!”
We reached the stairs.
Smoke filled my lungs.
Then I heard crying.
A child.
I stopped.
Victor nearly collided with me.
“What?”
“Listen.”
There.
Crying.
Not Ethan.
A little girl.
Marcus shouted that the wing was empty.
He was wrong.
I ran toward the sound.
Victor cursed and followed.
We found her inside a linen closet.
Maybe six years old.
Barefoot.
Drugged.
A hospital bracelet around her wrist.
Victor lifted her.
We escaped through the courtyard as windows exploded behind us.
Outside, paramedics took the girl.
I looked at her bracelet.
No name.
Only a number.
H-17.
Haven.
Victor saw it too.
His face hardened.
The little girl opened her eyes.
She looked at me.
Then whispered, “Vale.”
I leaned closer.
“What?”
“The lady said Vale would come.”
My blood froze.
“What lady?”
The child pointed toward the burning house.
“Your mother.”
I stopped breathing.
My mother had died when I was four.
At least, that was what my father told me.
Then the girl reached into her pocket.
She gave me a small brass key.
Three letters had been carved into it.
AVA.
My mother's name.
And suddenly I knew.
May you like
Celeste had not been watching me because of my father.
She had been watching me because of my mother.
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