CHAPTER FIVE — A STORMY NIGHT
1576 Words
Elara didn’t follow Valentina out of the office at first. She stayed frozen beside the open safe, staring at the items Damon should never leave behind. His passport with the worn edges. His heavy watch he polished religiously. His wallet, always tucked into his jacket, almost part of his body at this point.
Still here.
Every explanation she tried to form fell apart before reaching her lips. She felt Valentina watching her from the door.
“You’ve seen enough,” Valentina finally said. “Close the safe.”
Elara didn’t move.
“I said close it.”
Only when Valentina’s voice thinned with irritation did Elara reach out slowly and push the door shut. It clicked into place, quiet but final.
Valentina adjusted her coat. “You will not speak of this to anyone. Not the staff. Not your friends. Not even those who pretend to care.”
Elara blinked. “Pretend?”
Valentina let out a faint laugh. “My dear, everyone around you pretends. That’s what proximity to wealth does.”
She stepped out, expecting Elara to follow. Elara didn’t. Not immediately.
She finally walked out of the office a moment later, her steps slow. Her mind was still in that safe, still replaying the way Valentina reacted as if she already knew something was going on. As if this wasn’t a shock.
Valentina led the way down the hall like she owned every breath the house took. Elara trailed behind her, the feeling of unease growing heavier with every second.
“Whatever Damon is handling,” Valentina said as she walked, “he will address it when necessary. Until then, you keep this house running and stay calm.”
“That’s not enough,” Elara said weakly.
“It will have to be.” Valentina glanced back at her. “Damon made his choice when he married you. He believed you could handle pressure.”
“Pressure,” Elara repeated under her breath.
Valentina turned fully this time, her expression sharpened. “Elara. Composure is part of your responsibility. Do you understand?”
Elara felt her throat tighten. “I understand that someone broke into this house.”
Valentina dismissed it with a wave. “You don’t know that.”
“I know what I saw.”
“You saw a safe open.”
“And footprints.”
“Dust smudges,” Valentina corrected smoothly.
“And a note.”
Valentina stopped walking. “What note?”
Elara regretted speaking the moment the words left her mouth. She swallowed. “Nothing.”
“No,” Valentina said. “Explain.”
Elara met her gaze. “Someone left a note in my bag.”
Valentina’s expression didn’t change. That almost scared Elara more than shock would have.
“What did it say?” Valentina asked.
“That Damon has enemies,” Elara murmured. “And I’m the first to fall.”
Valentina stepped closer until her perfume, the kind that always smelled like authority, filled the air between them.
“Elara,” she said softly, “some messages are designed to manipulate. To distract. To cause panic. Don’t let them.”
“And what if it’s real?”
Valentina’s eyes hardened. “Then Damon will handle it.”
“And what if Damon disappears?” Elara asked.
Valentina didn’t flinch. “He won’t.”
Her certainty wasn’t comforting. It felt rehearsed.
Before Elara could speak again, the lights flickered once.
Then again.
Valentina looked up at the ceiling.
“What now?” she muttered.
“System,” Elara called. “Check power status.”
No answer.
She tried again. “System?”
Silence.
Then everything went black.
Every light.
Every monitor.
Every screen.
Every trace of electricity.
Gone.
The hum of the house died instantly, replaced by a thick, oppressive silence.
Elara’s breath hitched. “What’s happening?”
Valentina stiffened. “Backup power should have been activated.”
It wasn’t.
The house felt suddenly alive with the wrong kind of quiet.
Elara reached out blindly. “Where are you?”
“Here,” Valentina answered sharply. She grasped Elara’s wrist. “Stay close. The house shouldn’t go dark like this.”
They took careful steps down the hallway. Without lights, the mansion felt larger, colder. Even their breathing sounded too loud.
“System, restore lights,” Valentina commanded.
Still nothing.
They stopped.
“Elara,” Valentina said in a low voice, “don’t move.”
Elara froze. “What?”
“I heard something.”
Elara listened. At first she only heard her own heartbeat. Then, faintly—
a soft creak.
Somewhere downstairs.
Valentina’s hand tightened around her wrist. “That didn’t come from the system. Someone is walking in the house.”
Elara’s pulse surged. “We have to—”
“Quiet,” Valentina hissed.
They stood completely still. Footsteps echoed faintly again. Not running. Not panicking. Slow. Controlled. Whoever it was didn’t seem afraid of being heard.
Elara’s skin prickled with fear. “Valentina,” she whispered, “we need to go to the panic room.”
“That room is downstairs,” Valentina whispered back. “Whoever is down there would corner us.”
Someone moved again. Closer this time.
Valentina exhaled sharply. “We go upstairs.”
They made their way up the staircase one step at a time, gripping the railing, every sound amplified by the darkness. Halfway up, another noise floated through the house.
A door closing.
Elara felt her mouth go dry. “They’re not even trying to hide it.”
“No,” Valentina said. “Which means—”
She cut herself off abruptly.
“What?” Elara asked.
Valentina pulled her close. “Elara. Whoever’s inside isn’t worried about being discovered.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they know the house has no power. Meaning they know we can’t escape.”
Elara felt her knees weaken. “Was the lockdown part of this?”
Valentina didn’t answer.
“Valentina?”
“Keep climbing,” Valentina ordered.
They reached the top floor and walked quickly toward the master bedroom suite. Valentina shut the door behind them and leaned against it.
Elara moved toward the window, hoping for light. Nothing outside helped. The blackout stretched across the entire property. Even the garden lamps were dead.
Valentina pulled out her phone. “No signal.”
Elara checked hers. “Same.”
Valentina let out a frustrated breath. “This shouldn’t be possible.”
Elara’s voice trembled. “Do you still think I’m overreacting?”
Valentina didn’t answer.
They stood in the darkened room for a long moment, both listening. The house creaked. Something shifted downstairs.
Valentina walked toward the nightstand and opened the drawer. She pulled out a slim metal object, a small emergency flashlight, and pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
She pressed it again. And again.
Still nothing.
Elara swallowed. “Even that?”
“This is deliberate,” Valentina whispered. For the first time, her voice carried genuine fear.
Before Elara could respond, they heard it again.
A footstep.
But this time…
on the staircase.
Elara’s breath caught in her throat. “Upstairs,” she choked out. “They’re coming upstairs.”
Valentina grabbed her arm and pulled her toward Damon’s closet. “Inside. Move.”
Elara stumbled after her. Valentina pushed her into the darkness and closed the door, leaving only a sliver of space open so they could hear.
Footsteps reached the top floor.
One step.
Another.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Elara pressed her hand over her mouth to silence her breathing. Valentina held the door handle tightly.
The footsteps stopped outside the bedroom door.
Elara felt tears sting her eyes, not from fear alone, but from the quiet certainty that whoever was out there didn’t care if they were caught.
A soft tap on the bedroom door echoed through the space.
Valentina’s grip tightened.
Another tap.
And another.
Almost polite.
Elara leaned closer to the c***k of the closet door and saw a faint shadow pass across the bottom of the bedroom door.
Someone was standing there.
Listening.
Valentina slowly raised one finger to her lips, signaling Elara to stay quiet.
The handle of the bedroom door clicked.
Elara’s heart nearly burst.
The door didn’t open.
Not fully.
Just a tiny shift.
Then silence.
It felt like whoever stood there was simply checking, testing the room.
Minutes passed.
Finally, footsteps moved away.
Down the hall.
Toward Damon’s office.
Valentina exhaled the smallest breath. “We move now.”
“Where?” Elara whispered shakily.
“The study. It has an emergency panel Damon never disabled.”
Elara nodded weakly. She followed Valentina out of the closet, both moving like ghosts through the room. They reached the hallway.
The house remained dark. Still. Unsettling.
They reached the study door. Valentina checked the handle.
Locked.
She cursed under her breath. “Damon changed it.”
“Elara?”
Elara froze.
Behind them.
A voice.
Deep.
Male.
Unfamiliar.
“Elara,” the voice repeated softly. “I know you’re here.”
Valentina pushed Elara behind her instinctively, eyes wide.
“Elara Moretti,” the voice said, calm as a whisper, “your husband has been very busy.”
Valentina grabbed Elara’s wrist. “Run.”
Before their feet moved, a crash echoed from downstairs.
The intruder wasn’t alone.
Elara felt every nerve in her body scream.
They weren’t hiding anymore.
Someone had broken into the house.
Not to steal.
Not to search.
Someone came for her.
- Writer
