Eye for Adrian

Eyes for Adrian – Part Two Chapter Five – The Locked Door

The mansion was quieter than usual when we returned. The staff had retreated, the corridors dim, the only sound the distant hum of the generator. Adrian dismissed his driver and walked with me up the grand staircase, his pace unhurried.

Halfway to our suite, he paused. “Go on ahead,” he said. “I’ll join you shortly.”

I hesitated, but his tone brooked no argument. I continued down the hall but instead of going to our room, I stopped near a door I’d never seen open before. Its handle was cold brass, the wood polished to a deep sheen.

I glanced back. Adrian was gone. The hall was empty.

The door turned easily under my hand.

Inside, the room was nothing like the rest of the mansion’s opulent style. It was bare, functional a large table in the center, covered in maps, photographs, and stacks of files. A faint scent of paper and dust filled the air.

I stepped closer, my eyes scanning the topmost photograph.

It was me.

Not just one dozen. Different days, different outfits, different expressions. Some from before I’d even met Adrian.

A chill crept down my spine.

Footsteps.

I turned too late. Adrian stood in the doorway, his face unreadable, his sightless gaze fixed on me with unnerving precision.

“That door,” he said softly, “is always locked for a reason.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came.

He crossed the room slowly, the tip of his cane tapping the floor. “Tell me, Ever,” he murmured, “Did he speak to you tonight? The man in the garden?”

My chest tightened. “I don’t know who you mean.”

His hand came to rest on the table beside me, his fingers brushing the edge of one of my photographs. “Lies,” he said almost gently. “ Not very good at them.

The air between us felt weighted, charged. Then, without another word, he reached past me and closed the file.

“Go to bed,” he said. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

But I knew that whatever “talk” he meant, it wouldn’t be one I could walk away from unchanged.