Chapter 4
1346 Words
Isadora stepped away from the terrace window.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
“Lucien, what do you mean you're coming upstairs?”
“I mean exactly that.”
“Someone is outside.”
“I know.”
“And you're leaving your car?”
“Yes.”
“Lucien—”
“Lock the terrace door.”
The call ended.
Isadora stared at the screen.
For a moment, she couldn't move.
Then she heard it.
A soft sound from the hallway.
Knock.
Her heart jumped.
She looked toward her bedroom door.
Another knock followed.
Three slow taps.
Isadora swallowed.
“Mom?”
No answer.
Clara was asleep down the hall.
The knock came again.
This time, louder.
Isadora grabbed the nearest object from her desk—a heavy glass paperweight—and held it tightly.
She moved toward the bedroom door.
Then her phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown Number:
Don't let him inside.
Isadora's breath caught.
Another message appeared.
He knows what happened to your father.
She stared at the words.
Then—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Isadora.”
She froze.
Lucien.
His voice came from the other side of the apartment door.
“It's me.”
She lowered the paperweight slightly.
“How did you get upstairs?”
“I'll explain later.”
She didn't move.
“Isadora.”
His voice was calm, but there was something underneath it.
Urgency.
“Open the door.”
She walked toward the entrance but stopped several feet away.
“How do I know it's really you?”
A pause.
Then Lucien answered quietly.
“You don't.”
Isadora frowned.
“That isn't reassuring.”
“No,” he said. “But it's honest.”
She glanced at the message again.
Don't let him inside.
Her instincts screamed at her to stay away.
But another part of her remembered the figure across the street.
The dark umbrella.
The way it had turned toward her building.
She moved closer to the door.
“Where's the person outside?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“He disappeared when I crossed the street.”
Isadora's hand hovered near the lock.
“Then how do you know I'm safe?”
“I don't.”
Silence.
Lucien continued.
“That's why I'm here.”
Something about his answer unsettled her.
Not because it sounded threatening.
Because it sounded sincere.
Isadora unlocked the door.
She opened it only a few inches.
Lucien stood in the hallway.
His dark coat was damp from the rain, his hair slightly wet. His expression was controlled, but his eyes immediately moved past her, checking the apartment.
Then they returned to her.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did you open the terrace door?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He stepped inside.
Isadora immediately closed and locked the door behind him.
“You're not exactly good at explaining things.”
“I've noticed.”
She folded her arms.
“Who was outside?”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
Lucien walked toward the living room and glanced toward the windows.
“Someone was watching your building.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Then what do you know?”
He turned toward her.
“That someone knows about your father.”
Isadora's expression hardened.
“You said that before.”
“I know.”
“And you still haven't told me why.”
Lucien was silent.
She took a step closer.
“You knew my father.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he was in trouble.”
“Yes.”
“You knew something happened the night he disappeared.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Isadora stared at him.
“Then tell me.”
Lucien looked away.
“Not tonight.”
Her anger rose.
“Why not?”
“Because you're frightened.”
“I can handle being frightened.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Lucien looked back at her.
“I mean you're angry, exhausted, and someone is watching your home. If I tell you everything tonight, you won't think clearly.”
“You don't get to decide when I deserve the truth.”
Something shifted in his expression.
For the first time, Isadora saw something other than control.
Regret.
“I know.”
Before she could answer, a sound came from the hallway.
A faint creak.
Both of them turned.
Clara's bedroom door was slightly open.
Isadora's face changed.
“Mom.”
She rushed down the hallway.
Lucien followed.
“Mom?”
Clara sat upright in bed.
“What happened?”
Isadora entered quickly.
“Did you hear anything?”
Clara looked confused.
“No. Why?”
Isadora glanced toward Lucien.
Then toward the window.
Nothing.
Everything looked normal.
Except for one thing.
The curtains were moving.
The window was open.
Isadora stopped breathing.
“Mom,” she whispered. “Did you open this?”
Clara shook her head.
“No.”
Lucien moved immediately.
He crossed the room and closed the window.
Then he examined the latch.
His expression darkened.
“Someone opened it.”
Clara looked frightened.
“Someone was inside?”
“I don't know,” Lucien said.
Isadora looked at him.
“You said no one could get inside.”
“I said I would make sure no one did.”
“You were wrong.”
“I know.”
That answer stopped her.
Lucien didn't defend himself.
He simply reached toward the windowsill.
Something was lying there.
A small black envelope.
Isadora's stomach dropped.
She knew that envelope.
Not because she had seen this one before.
Because her mother had described one exactly like it.
The envelope Edward Blake had received before he disappeared.
Clara slowly stood.
“No.”
Isadora picked it up.
Her fingers trembled.
“Mom?”
Clara stared at it.
“That looks like the one your father received.”
Lucien's expression became unreadable.
Isadora looked at him.
“You've seen this before.”
He didn't answer.
“Lucien.”
His eyes met hers.
“Yes.”
The room seemed to grow colder.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Where?”
Lucien's voice lowered.
“In your father's office.”
Isadora's fingers tightened around the envelope.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“You saw it.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
Lucien said nothing.
Isadora's anger returned, stronger this time.
“How many things are you hiding from me?”
His expression hardened.
“More than I should.”
The honesty hurt more than another lie would have.
Isadora looked down at the envelope.
There was no name on it.
No address.
No stamp.
Only one thing.
A thin black line running across the center.
Exactly like the folder she had found at Grave Industries.
Her pulse quickened.
She looked at Lucien.
“What is inside?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“Then why are you afraid of it?”
Lucien stepped closer.
“Because the last time your father opened one of these, three days later he disappeared.”
Silence filled the room.
Clara covered her mouth.
Isadora stared at the envelope.
Then her phone vibrated.
She looked down.
Another message from the unknown number.
You found the envelope.
Her blood ran cold.
A second message appeared.
Now ask Lucien who was with your father when he disappeared.
Isadora slowly lifted her eyes.
Lucien was watching her.
He knew.
Whatever happened two years ago, Lucien Grave had been closer to it than he had ever admitted.
And now someone wanted her to know exactly how close.
She looked at the black envelope in her hand.
“Lucien.”
“Yes?”
“Who was with my father that night?”
For the first time since she had met him, Lucien looked genuinely afraid.
He didn't answer.
And that frightened her more than anything else.
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