The man behind the door
1662 Words
The message remained on Joan’s phone long after the screen went dark.
COME ALONE, JOAN. YOUR FATHER IS WAITING.
She read it again.
Then again.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Behind her, the Vale estate had fallen into complete darkness. The sudden silence was almost worse than the blackout itself. A few seconds earlier, Victor had been standing beside her, Pascal had been arguing about the agreement, and Mary had been watching them from the doorway.
Now there was nothing.
No lights.
No voices.
Only the faint sound of rain striking the tall windows.
“Joan.”
Victor’s voice came from somewhere beside her.
“I’m here.”
She turned toward him.
“I have to go.”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Joan stared into the darkness where his voice had come from. “My father is alive.”
“You don't know that.”
“The message says—”
“Messages lie.”
“So does everyone else in this house.”
Silence.
Victor stepped closer. She could hear his footsteps against the marble floor.
“Joan, listen to me. Whoever sent that message knew exactly what to say.”
“My father.”
“Exactly.”
She swallowed.
For twelve years, she had lived with questions she had never been able to answer. Why had her father disappeared? Why had everyone acted as though his absence was something she should simply accept? Why had Victor’s name appeared in the middle of the evidence surrounding the attack?
And now, one day before her eighteenth birthday, someone was telling her that the man she had spent years waiting for was alive.
She couldn't simply ignore it.
“I’m going,” she whispered.
Victor caught her wrist.
Not hard.
But firmly enough to stop her.
“You are not going alone.”
She pulled her hand away.
“The message specifically said alone.”
“And that is exactly why you're not going.”
A small laugh escaped her, though there was nothing funny about the situation.
“You think you can order me around?”
“No.”
Victor’s voice lowered.
“I think I can keep you alive.”
Joan froze.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Pascal’s voice broke through the darkness.
“The agreement.”
Victor turned.
“What about it?”
Pascal stepped closer, his phone providing the only light in the room.
“The agreement wasn't just about marriage, territory, or control.”
Joan looked at him.
“What are you talking about?”
Pascal hesitated.
That hesitation frightened her more than his words.
“There was another condition.”
Victor’s expression changed.
“Pascal.”
“I think she deserves to know.”
“What condition?”
Pascal looked directly at Joan.
“If the truth about your father comes out before your eighteenth birthday, the agreement becomes void.”
Joan felt the air leave her lungs.
“My birthday is tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know what the truth was.”
Victor stepped between them.
“And you still don't.”
Pascal nodded slowly.
“But someone clearly does.”
Joan looked at her phone again.
The message.
The timing.
The blackout.
Everything was connected.
“Where would they take him?”
Nobody answered.
Joan’s eyes moved toward Victor.
“You know.”
Victor looked away.
That was enough.
“You know where my father could be.”
“I know places where someone could hide him.”
“Take me there.”
“No.”
“Victor—”
“No.”
Her patience snapped.
“You keep telling me what I can and cannot do, but my entire life has been built around secrets you people refuse to explain!”
Her voice echoed through the dark room.
Mary finally spoke.
“Joan…”
“Not now, Mary.”
Mary went quiet.
Joan immediately regretted it, but she couldn't stop herself.
“I just want my father back.”
Her voice broke on the final word.
Victor stared at her.
Something in his expression softened.
Then the lights suddenly returned.
Joan blinked.
The chandelier above them flickered twice before remaining steady.
The estate looked exactly as it had before.
Except Victor was no longer beside her.
He stood near the entrance.
Watching the doors.
“Where is Pascal?”
Joan turned.
The room was empty.
Pascal was gone.
Mary looked toward the corridor.
“He was here a second ago.”
Victor's face hardened.
“Stay here.”
Joan almost laughed.
“Seriously?”
Victor ignored her.
He walked toward the corridor.
Joan followed.
“Victor.”
He stopped.
“Don't.”
She looked at him.
“You don't understand. If someone got inside this estate without being noticed, then staying here isn't necessarily safer.”
Victor considered her words.
Then he nodded once.
“Fine. But you stay behind me.”
They moved through the corridor together.
Every door was closed.
Every window locked.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
Until they reached Pascal’s study.
The door was open.
Victor pushed it wider.
Pascal was standing beside the desk.
His back was turned.
“Pascal.”
He didn't move.
Joan frowned.
“Pascal?”
Slowly, he turned around.
His face had lost all color.
“What happened?” Victor asked.
Pascal held up something in his hand.
A photograph.
Joan recognized it immediately.
It was the same photograph Victor had shown her before—the one of her father and Victor's father standing together.
But there was something different now.
Someone had written on the back.
Pascal handed it to Joan.
She turned it over.
Three words were written in black ink.
ASK YOUR MOTHER.
Joan stared at them.
“My mother?”
Her mother had died when she was young.
At least, that was what she had always been told.
Victor took the photograph from her.
“Where did you get this?”
Pascal pointed toward the desk.
“There.”
A black envelope lay beside an old wooden box.
Joan stepped forward.
The silver symbol on the envelope was identical to the one from the previous message.
Her heart began pounding.
Victor reached for it.
Joan stopped him.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“This one is mine.”
She picked it up.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
No photograph.
No explanation.
Only one sentence.
YOUR FATHER DIDN’T DISAPPEAR. HE WAS TAKEN.
Joan's breathing became shallow.
Below the sentence was another line.
AND YOUR MOTHER KNEW WHY.
She looked up.
Nobody spoke.
For years, she had believed she knew the story of her family.
Her father disappeared.
Her mother died.
Victor’s family became her enemy.
And somehow, she had ended up trapped inside an agreement she had never chosen.
But now everything she believed was beginning to collapse.
“Who sent this?” she whispered.
Pascal shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Victor stared at the paper.
“I have an idea.”
Joan looked at him.
“Who?”
Victor didn't answer immediately.
Then he looked toward the window.
“The person who sent this doesn't want you to find your father.”
Joan frowned.
“Then what do they want?”
Victor turned back to her.
“They want you to find the truth.”
A cold silence filled the room.
Joan looked down at the photograph again.
Two fathers.
One secret.
A dead mother who apparently knew more than she had ever said.
And a mysterious person who had been watching her.
Tomorrow was her eighteenth birthday.
Tomorrow, the agreement would supposedly end.
But suddenly, Joan wasn't sure whether freedom was waiting for her on the other side.
Maybe the agreement had never been a cage.
Maybe it had been protection.
And if that was true, then someone had just opened the door.
Victor stepped closer.
“Joan.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
His eyes remained fixed on hers.
“Whatever happens tomorrow, don't trust anyone.”
She almost smiled bitterly.
“Not even you?”
Victor didn't answer.
That was the first time Joan realized something terrifying.
Victor wasn't afraid of the person who had sent the messages.
He was afraid of what Joan might discover when she finally met them.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky.
Joan's phone vibrated.
One new message.
She looked at the screen.
Her heart stopped.
There was no number.
No name.
Just a photograph.
She opened it.
It showed an old room.
A chair.
A window.
And a man sitting beside it.
Her father.
Alive.
Joan's hand began to tremble.
A second message appeared.
YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT.
Then another.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT HIM TO LIVE FREE.
Joan slowly raised her eyes toward Victor.
He had seen the photograph.
His expression changed.
And for the first time since she had met him, Victor looked genuinely afraid.
“Joan,” he said quietly.
She waited.
“Whatever you do…”
He stopped.
His jaw tightened.
“Don't go.”
But Joan already knew.
She was going.
Not because she trusted the stranger.
Not because she believed the message.
But because, after twelve years of wondering whether her father was alive, she had finally seen his face.
And tomorrow was her eighteenth birthday.
She had one night left to find the truth.
One night before the agreement ended.
One night before both families lost control of her.
Joan slipped the phone into her pocket.
Then she walked toward the door.
Victor caught up with her.
“Where are you going?”
She looked at him.
“To find my father.”
Victor stared at her for several seconds.
Then, unexpectedly, he stepped aside.
“Then you're going to have to get past me first.”
Joan stopped.
Their eyes met.
And somewhere deep inside the estate, a clock began to strike eleven.
One hour remained.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD