Behind Closed Doors

CHAPTER FIVE- HE WAS ALWAYS THERE

I thought distance would make things easier.

I was wrong.

Leo had become a shadow.

Not the kind that followed directly behind you.

The kind you only noticed when you stopped moving.

At breakfast, he was across the table.

In the hallway, he would appear just as I reached the stairs.

When I went outside, he somehow found a reason to be there.

When I returned to my room, I would sometimes find something had been moved.

A book.

A chair.

A photograph.

Nothing important.

Nothing obvious.

Just enough to make me wonder if I was imagining it.

That was what Leo was good at.

Making me question myself.

Making me wonder whether I had really seen what I thought I'd seen.

But I knew.

I wasn't imagining him.

He was watching me.

And lately, he wasn't even trying very hard to hide it.

---

That morning, I walked downstairs and found everyone already at the table.

“Good morning,” Mom said.

“Morning.”

I sat down.

Leo was already looking at me.

I ignored him.

Grandma passed me a plate.

“Eat something.”

“I will.”

Leo leaned back in his chair.

“You didn't sleep well.”

I looked at him.

“How would you know?”

He shrugged.

“You look tired.”

“I am.”

“You were awake late.”

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.

“How do you know?”

He smiled.

“You walk loudly.”

Nobody reacted.

I slowly lowered my fork.

Mom continued talking to Grandma.

Uncle was reading something on his phone.

Everyone acted normal.

But Leo's eyes remained on me.

I looked away.

A few seconds later, he spoke again.

“You should get more sleep.”

“I'll try.”

“You should.”

Something about the way he said it sounded less like advice and more like an instruction.

I didn't respond.

He smiled.

“Good girl.”

My stomach twisted.

I pushed my chair back.

“I've lost my appetite.”

Mom looked at me.

“You barely ate.”

“I'm fine.”

Leo laughed quietly.

“There she goes again.”

I looked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He picked up his cup.

“She's always fine.”

The words were innocent enough for everyone else.

But I knew what he meant.

He was reminding me.

He knew my answer.

He knew exactly how often I said it.

And somehow, that frightened me more than if he'd threatened me openly.

---

After breakfast, I went upstairs.

I closed my bedroom door.

Then locked it.

I stood there for a moment, listening.

Nothing.

I walked toward my desk.

My notebook was sitting exactly where I had left it.

I opened it.

The pages were untouched.

I exhaled.

Maybe I had been paranoid.

Maybe—

A piece of paper fell from between the pages.

I picked it up.

It wasn't mine.

Three words were written across it.

I SEE EVERYTHING.

My hands went cold.

I immediately looked at the door.

Locked.

I checked the window.

Closed.

I looked around the room.

Nothing.

Then I noticed my wardrobe.

One door was slightly open.

I knew I had closed it.

I walked toward it slowly.

I pulled it open.

Nothing.

Just clothes.

I almost laughed at myself.

Then I noticed something on the floor.

A small black button.

I picked it up.

It wasn't from any of my clothes.

I knew where I'd seen it before.

Leo's jacket.

My stomach dropped.

He had been inside my room.

I sat on the bed.

For several minutes, I didn't move.

Then someone knocked.

I nearly screamed.

“Amaria?”

Leo.

I didn't answer.

“Are you awake?”

Silence.

“Open the door.”

“No.”

A pause.

Then he laughed softly.

“You know I'm not going anywhere.”

My hands curled into fists.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to check on you.”

“I don't need checking on.”

“That's not what I heard.”

“What?”

“Mom said you weren't feeling well.”

“I said I'm fine.”

There was silence.

Then:

“Of course you are.”

I hated the way he said it.

Like he knew something I didn't.

Like he was waiting for me to break.

I walked toward the door but didn't open it.

“Go away.”

He didn't move.

“I know you're angry.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

I frowned.

“Good?”

“At least you're feeling something.”

I stared at the door.

“You're strange.”

“I know.”

His voice became quieter.

“That's what makes you interesting.”

I stepped away from the door.

“Stop talking to me.”

He didn't answer.

I waited.

Nothing.

Eventually, I heard his footsteps moving away.

I didn't relax.

Because I had learned something about Leo.

When he became quiet, that was when I worried most.

---

That afternoon, I went to the study.

The door was locked.

I tried the handle.

Nothing.

I looked around.

Empty hallway.

I reached into my pocket.

The key I'd found beneath the old photograph was still there.

I had no idea what it opened.

But I suspected I was about to find out.

I inserted it.

The lock clicked.

The door opened.

I stepped inside.

The study smelled of dust and old paper.

I closed the door behind me.

Then I began searching.

Drawers.

Shelves.

Cabinets.

Nothing.

I was about to give up when I noticed a loose section of the bookshelf.

I pushed it.

It moved.

Behind it was a narrow compartment.

My heart began pounding.

Inside were several folders.

I pulled out the first.

FAMILY RECORDS.

The second:

MEDICAL DOCUMENTATION.

The third made my hands freeze.

AMARIA VALE.

My name.

I opened it.

The first page was a hospital record.

My date of birth.

The hospital.

The attending physician.

And beneath that—

Mother: Elena Vale.

I stared at the page.

My fingers went numb.

“No.”

I turned the page.

Another document.

Same information.

Another.

Same.

I kept searching.

Then I found a photograph.

A woman holding a baby.

The woman was Elena.

The baby was me.

I knew it.

Somewhere deep inside, I knew it.

But there was something written beneath the photograph.

Transferred to family custody — October 18, 2012.

Transferred.

Not adopted.

Not placed.

Transferred.

I read it again.

Then I heard the study door open.

I froze.

Leo stepped inside.

He closed the door behind him.

His eyes immediately went to the folder in my hands.

He didn't ask what I'd found.

He already knew.

“You shouldn't be here.”

I stood.

“You knew.”

He said nothing.

“You knew Elena was my mother.”

“Amaria—”

“Don't.”

He stopped.

I held up the document.

“Tell me the truth.”

“You're asking the wrong question.”

“Then give me the right one.”

His expression darkened.

“Ask why she gave you up.”

“She didn't.”

He looked away.

“How do you know?”

“Because the records say she didn't.”

Silence.

I stepped closer.

“What happened to her?”

He looked at me.

“I told you to stop searching.”

“And I told you I'm not afraid of you anymore.”

His expression changed.

For the first time, his confidence slipped.

“That's not what I'm worried about.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

He glanced at the folder.

“You.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“You keep digging.”

“Because nobody will tell me the truth.”

“You don't understand what you're looking for.”

“Then explain it.”

He stepped closer.

“I can't.”

“Why?”

“Because once you know, you can't go back.”

I laughed bitterly.

“I've already lost the life I thought I had.”

He stared at me.

Then he said something that made my blood run cold.

“You're not the only person in this house who has been lied to.”

I stopped.

“What does that mean?”

He didn't answer.

Instead, he reached for the folder.

I pulled it away.

“Don't touch it.”

His jaw tightened.

“You don't know what you're holding.”

“Then tell me.”

“You think those documents will save you?”

“I think they will tell me the truth.”

“They won't.”

“Why?”

“Because they're incomplete.”

I stared at him.

“What?”

He nodded toward the folder.

“Someone removed the important pages.”

I looked down.

He was right.

There were numbers missing from the documents.

Pages had been torn out.

Dates skipped.

Names erased.

My heartbeat quickened.

“Who removed them?”

He didn't answer.

“Leo.”

He looked at me.

“Ask your mother.”

I froze.

“What does she know?”

He smiled faintly.

“More than she's told you.”

Then he walked toward the door.

I followed.

“Wait.”

He stopped.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“You can't just leave.”

He turned.

“I can.”

He opened the door.

Then looked back at me.

“That's the difference between you and me.”

“What difference?”

“I know when to stop asking questions.”

He left.

I stood alone in the study.

For several seconds, I simply stared at the doorway.

Then I looked down at the folder again.

I turned to the final page.

There was something handwritten at the bottom.

A name.

ELIAS VALE.

I didn't recognize it.

But beneath the name was one sentence.

Father of the child.

My breath caught.

My father.

I had finally found his name.

Or so I thought.

Because underneath it, written in different handwriting, were four words.

THIS IS NOT HIS NAME.

I stared at the page.

Someone had deliberately changed it.

Someone had erased my father's identity.

And suddenly, the mystery became even bigger.

Who was Elias Vale?

Why had his name been written here?

And who had crossed it out?

---

That night, I couldn't stop thinking about the study.

I waited until everyone was asleep.

Then I opened my bedroom door.

The hallway was dark.

I stepped outside.

One step.

Two.

Three.

I reached the staircase.

Then I heard a voice behind me.

“Where are you going?”

I froze.

Leo.

He was standing at the end of the hallway.

I turned slowly.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.”

I stared at him.

“Were you watching me?”

He didn't answer.

“Leo.”

“You shouldn't be wandering around the house at night.”

“Why?”

“Because you don't know what's waiting for you.”

I stared at him.

“You mean the secrets?”

His expression hardened.

“You really don't know when to stop.”

“No.”

I walked past him.

He moved aside.

But as I passed, he said quietly:

“Amaria.”

I stopped.

“You think you're uncovering the truth.”

I turned.

“You are.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

“No.”

His voice dropped.

“You're uncovering what they want you to find.”

I stared at him.

Before I could respond, he walked away.

I stood alone in the hallway.

His words followed me back to my room.

What they want you to find.

I locked my door.

Then I pulled the study documents from beneath my pillow.

I looked at the crossed-out name again.

ELIAS VALE.

Then I noticed something I had missed before.

There was a date written beneath it.

October 17, 2012.

The same night Elena disappeared.

The same night my family refused to discuss.

The same night everyone seemed determined to erase.

I turned the page.

A second name appeared beneath the first.

This one hadn't been crossed out.

I read it.

And my heart stopped.

Because it was the name of someone still living in this house.

Someone I had trusted my entire life.

Someone who had been standing at our dining table that very morning.

I stared at the name until my eyes burned.

Then I heard a knock on my bedroom door.

Three times.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

I didn't move.

“Amaria?”

Leo.

His voice was calm.

Almost gentle.

“I know you found the name.”

I stared at the document.

“How?”

Silence.

Then:

“Because I was the one who put it there.”

My blood ran cold.

I slowly approached the door.

“Why?”

His answer came quietly from the other side.

“Because you're finally ready to know.”

I opened my mouth.

But before I could speak, he added:

“Just remember one thing.”

“What?”

“You're looking for the wrong person.”

I looked down at the name again.

And suddenly—

I wasn't sure whether Leo was trying to help me.

Or whether he had just given me another reason to fear him.