Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO KNEW THE SECRET ROOM
Damon had just reached the staircase when he heard footsteps behind him.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.
Measured.
He turned.
Victor Salerno stood at the end of the corridor, still wearing the charcoal suit he had worn to dinner.
His coat was unbuttoned.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
Damon watched him approach.
“You came quickly.”
“You said it was urgent.”
Victor glanced toward the west wing.
“The room is open?”
Damon nodded.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Damon asked quietly, “How did you know which room I meant?”
Victor’s eyes did not move.
“You said the west wing.”
“I said the west wing.”
“You also said the sealed corridor.”
Damon's expression hardened.
“I never said sealed corridor.”
Victor stopped walking.
The silence between them changed.
It was subtle.
But Damon felt it immediately.
Victor had made a mistake.
A small one.
The kind of mistake that could be dismissed under ordinary circumstances.
Tonight, nothing was ordinary.
Victor slowly exhaled.
“I remembered the old house plans.”
“You remembered something that was never on the plans.”
Victor looked at him.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
“You always did hate wasting time.”
Damon walked past him.
“Come.”
They entered the hidden room together.
Victor looked around.
Unlike Damon, he did not appear surprised.
That bothered Damon more than anything else.
“You've been here before.”
Victor's jaw tightened.
“Once.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
Damon turned.
“That room was sealed four years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then why were you here?”
Victor looked at the desk.
His eyes settled on the porcelain coffee cup.
Something flickered across his face.
Regret.
Not fear.
Regret.
“I was helping your father.”
Damon went still.
His father, Vincent Kane, had been dead for three years.
The old man had ruled the Kane organization with an iron hand, leaving behind enemies, debts, loyalists, and enough secrets to fill several lifetimes.
Damon had spent years separating his father's business from his father's sins.
He had never imagined this room was part of that inheritance.
“My father used this room?”
Victor nodded.
“For what?”
“To meet people he didn't want seen.”
“Politicians?”
“Sometimes.”
“Judges?”
“Sometimes.”
“Enemies?”
“More often.”
Damon stared at him.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Victor looked down.
“Because your father ordered me not to.”
“That stopped mattering when he died.”
“No.”
Victor's voice was quieter.
“It stopped mattering when I realized why he was keeping it hidden.”
Damon stepped closer.
“Then tell me.”
Victor reached into his coat and removed a small brass key.
He placed it on the desk.
Damon stared at it.
“I found that in your father's desk after his funeral.”
“You've had it for three years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid to use it.”
Damon almost laughed.
“You're afraid of a key?”
“Not the key.”
Victor looked toward the hidden wall.
“What it opens.”
Damon picked up the key.
It was old.
Heavy.
On one side was a tiny engraved symbol.
A black rose.
Damon had seen it before.
On his father's personal signet ring.
He looked at Victor.
“What does this open?”
Victor did not answer immediately.
Instead, he said, “Before I tell you, there is something you need to understand.”
Damon waited.
“Your father wasn't the only person using this room.”
The words landed heavily.
“Who else?”
Victor shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Damon's eyes narrowed.
“But you suspected.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Victor looked toward the photographs.
“Someone who knew your father's private schedule.”
Damon looked at the photograph of himself beside Elena's grave.
“That's not my father's schedule.”
“No.”
Victor pointed toward it.
“That's yours.”
Damon stared at him.
“Which means whoever made these files continued the system after your father died.”
Victor nodded.
“That is what frightened me.”
Damon opened the notebook again.
“Then why is Nadia on this list?”
Victor's expression changed.
“I don't know.”
“She works here.”
“I know.”
“She has access to staff entrances.”
“I know.”
“She has a daughter who somehow found a hidden room today.”
Victor looked at him sharply.
“Lily opened the door?”
“She found it.”
“Did she see anyone?”
“No.”
Victor looked relieved.
Damon noticed.
“Why are you relieved?”
Victor's face hardened.
“Because if someone had been inside when Lily entered, this conversation would be very different.”
Damon closed the notebook.
“You're hiding something.”
“Yes.”
The answer came so quickly that Damon stopped.
Victor looked exhausted.
Not guilty.
Exhausted.
“I've been hiding something from you for three years.”
Damon waited.
“After your father's funeral, I found an envelope in this room.”
“Where is it?”
“I destroyed it.”
Damon's eyes became cold.
“You destroyed evidence?”
“I destroyed a threat.”
“To whom?”
“To you.”
Victor reached inside his coat again.
This time he removed an old photograph.
It was creased across the middle.
Damon took it.
The photograph showed Vincent Kane standing outside the estate.
Beside him stood a woman Damon recognized immediately.
Nadia.
Younger.
Perhaps twenty-five.
She was holding a baby.
Damon's eyes moved to the child.
Lily.
No.
Impossible.
The child in the photograph was an infant.
But the resemblance was unmistakable.
Damon looked at Victor.
“Nadia worked for my father?”
“She didn't.”
“Then why is she here?”
Victor swallowed.
“She wasn't his employee.”
“Who was she?”
Victor looked at the photograph again.
“She was someone your father owed a debt to.”
Damon stared.
“What kind of debt?”
Victor's answer was barely audible.
“The kind that never gets paid with money.”
Before Damon could respond, footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Both men turned.
Nadia stood in the doorway.
Her face had gone completely white.
She was holding Lily against her chest.
The toddler's head rested sleepily on her mother's shoulder.
Nadia looked at the photograph in Damon's hand.
Then she whispered,
“You weren't supposed to find that.”
Damon did not move.
Victor closed his eyes.
For the first time that night, Nadia looked directly at Damon.
Not as an employer.
Not as a billionaire.
Not as the dangerous man everyone feared.
As though she had been waiting years for this exact moment.
And Lily, half asleep in her mother's arms, suddenly lifted her head.
She pointed at the photograph.
“That baby looks like me.”
Nadia's eyes filled with tears.
Damon looked from the child to the photograph.
Then to Nadia.
“Who is Lily's father?”
Nadia's lips trembled.
And before she could answer, Victor whispered,
May you like
“Damon, don't ask that question until you know who took the photograph.”
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