Chapter 4 - The hidden letters
Holly sat at the massive marble kitchen island, swinging her legs clad in white tights. She hummed a cheerful Christmas tune, seemingly recovered from the trauma of the previous night. Beside her, the head housekeeper, Martha, stirred a rich cup of hot chocolate. Martha had been with the family for a decade, a sweet, grandmotherly figure who always smelled of cinnamon and vanilla.
Drink up, sweet girl, Martha said, sliding the mug forward with a warm smile.
Damian entered the kitchen, his imposing presence instantly shifting the atmosphere. He gently placed a hand on Holly’s shoulder. Good morning, princess.
Holly beamed up at him. Daddy! Look what I found in my room!
She reached into the pocket of her red velvet dress and pulled out a small, tarnished silver key. Damian’s heart stopped. He recognized that key. It belonged to an antique music box that Elena used to keep on her vanity, a box that had vanished the night she died.
Where did you find this, Holly? Damian asked, his voice soft but urgent.
It was tucked inside my new Christmas teddy bear, Holly said innocently. The one Vivienne gave me yesterday before the party.
Damian’s grip tightened on the edge of the marble counter. Vivienne had planted the key. She was leaving breadcrumbs, playing a psychological game, pulling him deeper into a maze of her own design.
He took the key and left Holly with Marcus, striding directly toward his late wife's preserved bedroom. The room was perfectly untouched, smelling faintly of her floral perfume. He walked to the vanity. The music box was missing, but the matching locked drawer beneath the mirror caught his eye. He slid the silver key into the lock. It clicked open.
Inside the drawer was a stack of letters tied with a faded ribbon, written in Elena’s elegant handwriting. Damian read the top letter.
My dearest Damian, if you are reading this, something has happened to me. I have discovered that your new business associate, Vivienne, is not who she claims to be. She is funneling our company funds to a syndicate in Chicago. But worse, she has compromised our home. Martha is helping her. Please, protect Holly.
Damian stopped breathing. He read the sentence again. Martha. The sweet, grandmotherly housekeeper who was currently in the kitchen with his daughter.
May you like
He dropped the letter, the blood roaring in his ears. He sprinted out of the room, his polished leather shoes echoing violently down the grand staircase. He tore into the kitchen, his athletic frame filling the doorway.
The kitchen was empty. The mug of hot chocolate sat untouched on the counter, steam rising into the air. The back door, leading out into the freezing, snow-covered gardens, was wide open. Holly was gone.
