Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN BEHIND ROOM SEVEN
“Victoria, why have you been bringing food to someone in my basement?”
Vincent DeLuca asked the question so quietly that I could hear the grandfather clock ticking across the dining room.
Victoria Sterling stood beside the birthday table, her hand still resting on the back of her chair.
Fifty-six wealthy guests watched her.
For the first time since I had met her, Victoria seemed unable to find the right words.
“Vincent, your grandmother doesn't know what she's saying.”
Margaret DeLuca slammed her palm against the table.
“I'm eighty-two, Victoria. Not dead.”
A few guests shifted uncomfortably.
Vincent turned toward his security chief, whose voice was still coming through the phone.
“Daniel, nobody opens that door until I get there.”
“Yes, boss.”
“And nobody leaves the property.”
Victoria looked toward the ballroom entrance.
That small movement told Vincent more than anything she had said.
“Grace.”
I straightened.
“Yes, sir?”
“Help my grandmother upstairs.”
Margaret immediately protested.
“No. I've spent forty years being told to stay quiet. I'm not doing it again.”
Vincent crouched beside her wheelchair.
“Grandma, whatever is happening down there, I promise I'll find out.”
She touched his cheek.
“You sound just like your grandfather.”
For some reason, those words seemed to hurt him.
He stood and looked directly at Victoria.
“You're coming with me.”
She attempted a smile.
“Darling, surely we can discuss this privately.”
“We are.”
He glanced at the guests.
“The party is over. My staff will arrange transportation.”
Nobody argued.
Within minutes, the mansion that had been filled with laughter became strangely silent.
I helped Margaret toward the elevator.
But before we reached it, she squeezed my hand.
“Grace, did you see the photograph?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Did you notice the man standing behind my husband?”
I remembered his dark hair, serious expression, and the unusual pocket watch attached to his vest.
“The man you said was your husband's brother?”
She nodded.
“His name was Gabriel.”
Her voice cracked.
“And I made a terrible mistake when I allowed everyone to forget him.”
Twenty minutes later, Vincent gathered us in his grandfather's old study.
Daniel Russo, his security chief, stood near the fireplace.
Victoria sat on a leather sofa, her perfectly arranged hair beginning to loosen.
Margaret occupied her husband's favorite armchair.
And I stood beside the door, still wearing my wine-stained uniform.
Vincent noticed.
“Grace, you can sit down.”
“I'm fine, sir.”
“That wasn't a suggestion.”
I sat.
Victoria gave a humorless laugh.
“How touching. The waitress gets invited into the family meeting.”
Vincent turned slowly.
“You threw wine on her.”
“It was an accident.”
“You ordered her to clean it with her dress.”
Victoria said nothing.
Vincent's expression hardened.
“You will never speak to anyone in this house that way again.”
Something in my chest loosened.
It wasn't the apology I deserved.
But it was the first time anybody had defended me in that mansion.
Daniel placed a small security tablet on Vincent's desk.
“Boss, we checked the service corridor. Miss Sterling's access card was used at the basement stairwell twenty-three times this month.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
Vincent stared at the records.
“Explain.”
She clasped her hands.
“There is a woman downstairs.”
Margaret inhaled sharply.
“Who?”
“Her name is Eleanor.”
Vincent's forehead tightened.
“Eleanor who?”
Victoria looked at Margaret.
“Eleanor Vale.”
Margaret's face lost its color.
She whispered, “That's impossible.”
I had never seen an elderly person look so frightened.
Vincent noticed immediately.
“Grandma?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Eleanor was Gabriel's wife.”
The room became completely still.
Vincent turned toward Victoria.
“You've been keeping my grandfather's sister-in-law in a locked basement?”
“No!”
Victoria stood.
“She wasn't supposed to be there permanently.”
“Then why is she locked inside?”
“Because she asked me to keep her hidden!”
Daniel spoke for the first time.
“The door locks from the outside, Miss Sterling.”
Victoria's lips trembled.
“I know how it looks.”
Vincent approached her.
“Then tell me how it really is.”
She looked at him with something I hadn't expected.
Not anger.
Shame.
“My father found her six months ago.”
Vincent stopped.
“Charles Sterling?”
Victoria nodded.
“He told me she was an elderly woman suffering from severe confusion. He said she had once worked for your family and was threatening to accuse your grandfather of terrible things.”
Margaret's hands began trembling.
“Charles found Eleanor?”
Victoria continued.
“He said bringing her here would protect her. He said she needed privacy while doctors evaluated her.”
“Which doctors?” Vincent asked.
Victoria couldn't answer.
Daniel quietly set another paper on the desk.
“We found delivery receipts, boss. Food, prescription medications, and personal supplies.”
I noticed the handwriting on one receipt.
My stomach tightened.
“Mr. DeLuca?”
Vincent turned.
“That handwriting belongs to Mr. Holloway.”
Daniel frowned.
“The chef?”
I nodded.
“He signs all special kitchen orders.”
Victoria suddenly pointed at me.
“Grace, don't interfere in things you don't understand.”
Vincent raised one hand.
“Let her speak.”
I swallowed.
“Three weeks ago, Mr. Holloway asked me to prepare soup without salt. He said it was for a guest recovering from surgery.”
“Did you deliver it?” Daniel asked.
“No. He always collected it himself.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Henry knew.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Henry Holloway has cooked for this family for thirty-seven years.”
“Your grandfather trusted him,” Margaret whispered.
“Then why didn't he tell me?”
She looked toward the photograph in Vincent's hand.
“Because your grandfather made him promise something.”
We went downstairs together.
Vincent insisted Margaret remain in the study, but she refused.
Daniel pushed her wheelchair while I walked beside her.
Victoria followed several steps behind.
The basement corridor was colder than the rest of the house.
Old stone walls stretched beneath exposed wooden beams.
At the far end stood a gray steel door.
ROOM 7.
The yellowed key hung from Vincent's fingers.
He approached the door.
A woman's voice came from inside.
“Victoria?”
Victoria stopped walking.
The voice sounded elderly but clear.
“Victoria, did you bring my supper?”
Vincent looked at his fiancée.
“Tell her who I am.”
Victoria's eyes filled.
“Eleanor, there's someone here.”
“Who?”
“Vincent DeLuca.”
Silence.
Then the woman said something that made Margaret begin to cry.
“Margaret? Did you finally tell him?”
Vincent inserted the key.
The lock turned.
Inside was a modest furnished room.
A bed.
A small table.
Several books.
A tray of untouched food.
And an elderly woman sitting beside a lamp, wearing a faded blue cardigan.
She was thin, with silver hair carefully pinned behind her ears.
But her eyes were remarkably alert.
She studied Vincent's face.
Then she whispered, “Good Lord. You have Gabriel's eyes.”
Vincent stood motionless.
Margaret reached toward her.
“Eleanor.”
The old woman looked at Margaret.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Eleanor said, “You kept your promise to Joseph. But you broke the one you made to me.”
Margaret bowed her head.
Vincent stepped forward.
“Mrs. Vale, why are you here?”
Eleanor looked toward Victoria.
“Because her father needed something I refused to give him.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
Vincent frowned.
“What ledger?”
Eleanor reached into her cardigan.
Victoria suddenly moved.
“Eleanor, don't!”
But Eleanor had already withdrawn an old brass pocket watch.
Its chain was broken.
Its cover was engraved with two initials.
G.V.
She pressed it into Vincent's palm.
“Your grandfather's brother carried this everywhere.”
Vincent opened it.
The hands had stopped at 11:17.
Behind the clock face was a tiny folded photograph.
I watched Vincent carefully unfold it.
The photograph showed two young men standing beside a large brick warehouse.
Joseph and Gabriel DeLuca.
Between them stood another man.
Vincent stared at his face.
Then slowly looked toward Victoria.
“That's your grandfather,” he said.
Victoria shook her head.
“No. That's not possible.”
Eleanor's voice was steady.
“Charles Sterling didn't come into your family by marriage, Vincent.”
May you like
She looked directly into his eyes.
“He came into your family to finish what his father started.”
