Chapter 10: The Locked Office
1093 Words
# Chapter 10: The Locked Office
The Shen mansion stood silent at midnight, a tomb of polished stone and dark wood. Su Nian's heels clicked against the hallway floor as she moved past the grand staircase, past the servant's quarters, past the gilded portrait of Grandfather Shen that watched her with painted disdain.
She'd changed out of the gown the moment she returned. Now she wore dark jeans, a black sweater, and the single piece of jewelry that mattered, a hairpin with the end bent at an exact angle, filed down over three nights in her bathroom.
The locked office door waited at the end of the second-floor corridor. Solid oak. Brass handle.
The butler's words echoed in her skull: *Never enter. Master Shen's orders.*
Su Nian pulled the hairpin from her bun, letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders. She crouched, inserted the bent tip into the keyhole, and breathed.
*Find the tension. Find the binding.*
Living on the streets after Su Mei disappeared had taught her things no finishing school ever could. Which dumpsters had clean food. Which alleys had safe sleep. Which locks opened with a paperclip and patience.
The first pin clicked.
Second.
Third.
The handle turned.
She pushed the door open an inch, listened. Nothing but the house's ambient hum, the ancient pipes, the creaking bones of a mansion built to outlast its inhabitants.
Su Nian slipped inside, closed the door behind her, and pulled out her phone. The flashlight cut a white beam through absolute darkness.
A desk dominated the room. Leather top. Organizer tray. A single framed photo faced away from her.
She crossed to the desk, scanned the surface. Nothing obviously incriminating. A calendar marked with dates. A pen holder. A closed laptop.
The drawers weren't locked. She pulled the top one open and found folders. Client files. Tax documents. Nothing useful.
The second drawer held a manila folder with no label.
She opened it.
*Su Mei. Missing Person Report. Case Status: Closed.*
Her hands went rigid as she read.
*Subject: Su Mei, age 34. Last seen: March 12, six years ago. Investigation concluded: Subject voluntarily departed the country with an unidentified male companion. Evidence suggests premeditated abandonment of family obligations.*
Bullshit.
Su Mei had called her that morning. Said she loved her. Said she'd see her after work. She'd never come home.
Then Su Nian saw it, a handwritten note in the margin, cramped and furious, one word in dark ink:
*Lie.*
The penmanship wasn't official. Someone had written this after the report was filed. Someone who knew the truth.
Her pulse spiked as she flipped to the next page. A photograph fell out, landing face-up on the desk.
Su Mei stood on a beach, wind whipping her hair. Beside her, a man in his late twenties, tall, sharp-jawed, with eyes that caught the flash and reflected,
Amber.
Like a wolf's eyes in headlights.
Su Nian's breath caught. She'd seen those eyes before. In the torn photo from Grandma Shen's album. And somewhere else. Somewhere recent.
Lin Yuxin's brother.
She'd mentioned him once, at the gala, after Su Nian had cornered her in the restroom. *My brother warned me about girls like you.* She'd said it with such venom, such possessive hatred.
But she'd never said his name.
Su Nian stared at the photo. Su Mei smiled at the camera, happy, carefree, young. The man's arm wrapped around her shoulder like he owned her.
*Mom, what happened to you?*
Footsteps.
Heavy. Measured. Coming down the hall.
Su Nian's body moved before her brain caught up. She grabbed the photo, shoved it into her pocket, slid the folder back into the drawer. The footsteps grew louder. Closer.
The door handle jiggled.
She dove under the desk, pulled her legs in, pressed her back against the wood panel. The door swung open.
Light flooded the room from the hallway. Su Nian watched leather shoes step inside. Expensive Italian leather. She knew them by heart.
Shen Liangchen.
He didn't turn on the main light. He crossed directly to the desk, sat down in the chair, and picked up the phone.
Her heart cramped behind her sternum. He was inches away. If he leaned forward, if he looked down, he'd see her.
He dialed.
"Confirm the identification." His voice was flat. Businesslike.
A pause. The person on the other end spoke too quietly for her to hear.
"Good." Another pause. "We found her. She's in the mansion."
Su Nian's scalp prickled, every nerve firing at once.
*Her.*
Su Mei.
Or her.
If he meant Su Mei, that meant his investigation was still running. Still active. Still more than the closed file said.
If he meant her,
She pressed her hand over her mouth. Breathed through her fingers.
"Follow the plan," Shen Liangchen said. "No deviations."
He hung up.
For a moment, he didn't move. Su Nian watched his shoes, perfectly polished, completely still. She could reach out and touch them. Could grab his ankle. Could scream.
She did none of those things.
He stood, walked back to the door, and closed it behind him. The lock clicked.
She counted to sixty before she moved.
Her legs shook as she crawled out from under the desk. Sweat soaked her collar. The photo in her pocket pressed against her thigh like a held breath.
She checked the desk one more time, nothing left out of place. No evidence she'd been here. She crossed to the door, pressed her ear against the wood.
Silence.
She turned the handle.
The lock held.
*No.*
She pulled the hairpin from her pocket, hands shaking, and inserted it into the keyhole. The familiar click came faster this time. She turned the handle, cracked the door, and slipped into the hallway.
Empty.
She ran.
Down the corridor, past the ancestral portraits, past the grandfather clock that ticked like a heartbeat, into the west wing where her room waited like a prison cell.
She slammed the door, locked it, pressed her back against it.
The photo pressed against her like a secret.
She pulled it out and looked at it again, at her mother's smile, at the amber-eyed man who might be Lin Yuxin's brother, who might have been her mother's lover, who might be the key to everything.
Su Mei hadn't run away.
Someone had written *lie* on her file.
Someone had investigated her disappearance.
Someone had *found* her.
Su Nian stared at the photo until her vision blurred.
She was no longer a wife.
She was a detective.
And the game had just begun.
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