Chapter 6:the secret room
1286 Words
Lisa woke up to thunder.
The rain from last night was still here. Tapping on the windows.
She lay there for a while, listening. Thinking about Damien’s hand. Warm. Steady.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She answered. “Hello?”
_“Breakfast is in 15,”_ Damien said. No hello. Just that.
“Okay,” Lisa said.
_“Wear black. We have a meeting with lawyers.”_
He hung up.
---
The lawyers talked for an hour. Words Lisa didn’t understand. Trusts. Assets.
All she had to do was sit.
When it was over, Damien walked her back to the penthouse but didn’t go in with her.
“Board meeting,” he said. “I’ll be back late.”
“Okay,” Lisa said.
The penthouse was huge when it was empty.
Lisa ate lunch alone. Then she got bored. Bored and restless.
She started walking. Counting steps.
Her room. 47 steps to the dining room. 23 more to the living room.
She’d never been past the living room.
Today, she kept going.
Her cane tapped. Left. Right. Left.
A hallway. She hadn’t noticed this one before.
It was colder here. Quieter.
She counted. 30 steps.
Her cane hit something. A door.
Wood. Not glass like the rest of the penthouse.
Lisa reached out. The knob was old. Different.
She turned it.
The door opened with a soft creak.
The air inside was different. It smelled like dust. And something else. Vanilla?
“Hello?” Lisa said.
No answer.
She stepped in.
Her cane hit carpet. Soft. Thick. Not like the marble outside.
She moved forward slowly. Her hand brushed something. Fabric. A curtain?
Then another thing. Wood. A desk.
Books. She could smell them. Old paper.
Lisa’s heart picked up. This didn’t feel like Damien’s office. This felt... lived in.
“Who’s here?” she called again.
Only silence.
She sat down in a chair. It was small. Too small for Damien.
Her fingers found things on the desk. A pen. Paper. And something else.
A frame.
Lisa picked it up carefully. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it. The outline of two people.
A man and a girl. The girl had braids. She was laughing.
Lisa ran her thumb over the glass.
Footsteps.
Fast. Angry.
The door slammed open.
“What are you doing in here?”
Damien.
Lisa jerked. The frame slipped from her hands.
She heard it hit the floor.
“Damien, I—”
“Get out.” His voice was nothing like before. It was shaking. With rage. Or something else.
Lisa stood, heart pounding. “I’m sorry. I was just walking and I—”
“I said GET OUT.”
Lisa stumbled back. Her cane hit the doorframe.
Damien didn’t touch her. But she could feel him. Right there. Breathing hard.
She ran.
Back through the hallway. Back to her room.
She locked the door and slid to the floor.
Her hands were shaking.
She’d never heard him like that.
---
An hour passed. Maybe two.
A knock. Soft this time.
“Lisa.” Damien’s voice. Quiet.
Lisa didn’t answer.
The door opened anyway. He had a key.
She heard him come in. Sit on the floor. Like before.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Lisa hugged her knees. “You yelled.”
“I know.”
“You never yell.”
“I know.”
More silence.
“The girl in the photo,” Lisa said finally. “That was your sister.”
Damien didn’t answer.
“The one who died,” Lisa whispered. “The car accident.”
A shaky breath. “Yes.”
Lisa turned toward him. “What was her name?”
Another long pause.
“Ella,” Damien said. The name broke in his mouth. “She was 9.”
Lisa’s chest hurt. “I’m sorry I went in there. I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“Why is it locked away?”
“Because if I see it every day, I can’t work,” Damien said. “And if I don’t work, I can’t... I can’t keep going.”
Lisa nodded, even though he couldn’t see.
“Did you love her a lot?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s okay to miss her,” Lisa said softly. “Even in the daytime.”
Damien made a sound. Like a laugh, but not. “You sound like her.”
Lisa froze. “What?”
“You ask questions. And you don’t stop when people are uncomfortable.” He sighed. “Ella used to do that too.”
Lisa didn’t know if that was good or bad.
“Can I... can I see the room again?” she asked. “Not now. But sometime. With you.”
Damien was quiet for a long time.
“Maybe,” he said finally.
Lisa smiled a little. “Okay.”
He stood. “Come on. Dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
Lisa stood too. “Okay.”
At dinner, it was quiet again. But not angry quiet.
Sad quiet.
Halfway through, Damien’s phone rang.
He answered on speaker. “What.”
_“Mr. Voss, it’s Richard,”_ the man from the boardroom. _“We have a problem. The press got photos from the gala. Of you and your wife. And Claire.”_
Lisa stopped eating.
_“The headline is ‘Billionaire’s Blind Bride and His Ex.’ It’s everywhere.”_
Damien pinched the bridge of his nose. “Take it down.”
_“We can’t. It’s viral.”_
The call ended.
Lisa set her fork down. “I’m sorry.”
“For what.”
“For being in the photo.”
Damien looked at her. Really looked.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “It was mine. For bringing you.”
Lisa nodded. “Will it hurt your company?”
“Probably.”
“Oh.”
Damien pushed his plate away. “Come here.”
Lisa stood and walked around the table.
Damien took her hand. Put it on his chest.
She could feel his heart. Fast.
“I don’t care about the company,” he said. “Not right now.”
Lisa swallowed. “Then what do you care about?”
“You,” he said. Simple. Honest.
Lisa’s breath caught.
“You’re the only thing in this building that doesn’t feel like a ghost,” Damien said. “And I yelled at you today. In Ella’s room.”
Lisa squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. Grief makes people mean.”
Damien closed his eyes. “Ella would’ve liked you.”
Lisa smiled, tears burning. “I would’ve liked her too.”
They stood there for a while. His hand in hers.
Then Damien let go.
“Go to bed,” he said. “I’ll handle the press.”
Lisa nodded and walked back to her room.
Before she closed the door, she heard him.
Soft. Like he didn’t want her to hear.
“Goodnight, Ella,” he whispered.
But Lisa knew he wasn’t talking to the photo anymore.
---
Later, her phone rang.
Unknown number.
“Hello?”
_“It’s me,”_ Damien said. _“Are you okay?”_
Lisa smiled into the dark. “I’m okay. Are you?”
_“I will be,”_ he said. _“Because of you.”_
He hung up.
Lisa pulled the blanket over her head and listened to the rain.
For the first time, the big empty penthouse didn’t feel so empty.
- Writer
