Racheal's eyes darted around. There was no time. She placed the key back to where it was.
She dropped low and slipped behind the curtain, just beside Harriet's vanity table. Her breath caught in her throat as the footsteps reached the doorway. A shadow was cast against the hallway wall.
A figure stood just outside the room.
Not moving, not knocking. Racheal held her breath, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Was it Harriet? Adam? Or one of the guards?
The doorknob twitched.
A voice low and murmured, and spoke just outside.
Then silence. The door creaked open, just a little more…
Racheal's lungs felt like they'd stopped working. Her entire body tensed behind the velvet curtain, the thick folds shielding her from view.
A long pause.
Then slow, deliberate steps entered the room.
Her breath hitched.
The footsteps weren't heavy, they were soft, almost calculated. Each one sank into the plush carpet like the sound of a ticking bomb. A faint rustle… the clinking of jewelry. Then… silence again. From her hiding place, Racheal's eyes flicked downward. In the low light, she could barely make out the faint shimmer of the key on the dresser, still untouched. But it was so close.
I should tell Adam to get my friends some more wine. That was when she figured it was her mom that entered the room. She stayed calm, then the door clicked shut. Harriet stepped out.
Still, Racheal didn't move. Not yet. She waited, counting in her mind.
Ten. Nine. Eight…
Only when she was sure no one lingered did she slowly slip from behind the curtain. Her knees trembled. Her skin felt cold despite the heat rushing through her body. She picked up the key. The key gleamed in her hand like a secret soaked in blood.
She slipped out of the room and returned to her own room like a shadow.
Once inside, she bolted the door, tossed her shoes aside, and collapsed against it, her breath ragged.
Racheal's hands trembled as she snatched up the phone, her fingers fumbling across the screen until David's name lit up. She pressed call, her breath shallow with a cocktail of excitement and fear.
When his voice finally came through, she didn't wait. "David, I got the key," she blurted out, her voice cracking.
At the other end, David exhaled sharply. Kate's voice chimed in beside him, breathless with relief. "Thank God," she whispered. "I'm so happy."
"So… tomorrow then?" David asked softly, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the silence that followed.
"Yes," Racheal replied, barely above a whisper.
She ended the call and sat down slowly at the edge of the bed, the cold metal key digging into her clenched palm like a brand. Her heart was still beating fast. But not just from fear anymore. Anticipation had joined it. The next twenty-four hours would unravel everything.
Everything the Georges had worked so hard to bury.
She turned her gaze to the window. Her reflection stared back at her eyes wide, body still trembling, but for the first time, steady with purpose.
"Tomorrow," she murmured to herself. "It all ends."
The morning sun spilled golden light across the Georges' estate, casting a gentle glow over the perfectly trimmed gardens and ornate decorations. It was a day that looked pulled from a fairy tale, Harriet George's long-awaited wedding. Guests arrived dressed in their finest, their laughter and chatter mixing with the soft notes of a string quartet playing in the background. The air buzzed with celebration.
"Everything must go perfectly today," she told the wedding planner with a brisk nod, smoothing down her dress.
Back in her room, Racheal sat on her vanity, applying the lightest layer of makeup. She stared at her reflection, her thoughts not on the celebration, but on the weight in her pocket, the key. Her pulse quickened just thinking about what it unlocked. Tonight, everything will change.
Inside the church, Harriet was radiant. Draped in a gown of ivory silk with diamonds glinting at her throat, she blossomed like a flower. The last time she had worn a smile so wide was when she discovered she would be a grandmother to twins. Her steps were graceful, her poise unshaken. From afar, no one could guess the bloodied secrets hiding within the Georges' family.
The ceremony passed in a blur of vows and applause. Cheers erupted as Harriet and Adam said their vows with forced sincerity, exchanging rings with perfectly rehearsed smiles. Then came the reception.
By the time the reception began at the George estate, the music had grown louder, guests had loosened their ties, and wine flowed like water. Champagne flowed like rivers and laughter echoed through the marble halls. Elegant lanterns glowed beneath the setting sun, casting soft shadows across the courtyard where white tables with gold-rimmed plates shimmered under the lights. Everyone was dancing, drinking, and clinking glasses to the "perfect couple."
But not everyone was celebrating.
David, dressed in a guard's dark suit, stood posted near the grand staircase, his muscular frame blending seamlessly into the mansion staff. His eyes never stopped moving. Beneath his calm exterior was a volcano of tension. He adjusted his cuff discreetly, pressing the small mic tucked inside. "Kate?"
In the kitchen, Kate was barely recognizable. She wore a crisp maid uniform, her red hair tucked under a cap. Her breath was shallow as she maneuvered the trays of drinks, playing her role with silent grace. When Racheal entered the reception hall, dressed like royalty in a wine-colored gown that shimmered under the lights, Kate moved with precision.
She walked over and leaned forward, offering Racheal a drink.
"Here you go, ma'am," she said aloud.
As she set the tray down, Racheal slipped the key into the front pocket of Kate's apron with swift ease. Their eyes met briefly.
"Let's get this done," Racheal whispered.
Kate nodded almost imperceptibly.
David, watching from across the hall, saw the exchange and adjusted his position, pretending to check his watch. He caught Kate's discreet signal, a slight shift of the tray and a blink.
It was time. Kate moved quietly through the kitchen and into the hallway, her footsteps quick and calculated. She slipped away from the festivities, her heart hammering against her ribs as she climbed the stairs and finally towards the wine cellar. The key in her pocket felt like it had burned through the fabric. Behind her, David followed minutes later, sliding into the hallway with fluid stealth.
Racheal stood back at the reception, her glass raised but untouched, eyes scanning the crowd with a carefully crafted smile.
Upstairs, Kate reached the door to the wine cellar. Her hand hovered over the lock for a moment as she took a deep breath, steadying herself. Then, with a swift motion, she slid the key in and turned it.
Click.
The door creaked open, the sound slicing through the silence like a warning.
David appeared moments later, his footsteps soft but urgent. He stepped in and closed the door behind them with a quiet thud.
They moved through the darkened room, their footsteps barely audible on the cold stone floor. Every second felt weighted, every breath deliberate.
Kate knelt and began shifting the drawers. Old, dusty, and stubborn. Her hands moved with purpose, revealing the one that concealed the hidden door.
They pushed the door open, the rusty hinges groaning in protest. A cold gust of air brushed past them, followed by the hollow echo of nothingness.
A narrow staircase spiraled downward into darkness.
Kate hesitated. "I don't like this," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the creak of the old wood.
David's jaw was clenched, determination etched into every line of his face. He pulled out his phone and switched on the flashlight, the narrow beam slicing through the gloom.
"Stay close," he said. "We're not leaving without answers."
They descended slowly, each step creaking beneath their feet. The air turned musty, heavy with damp and dust, as though the basement hadn't seen light in years.
When they reached the bottom, the flashlight landed on a small, dimly lit room filled with stacks of dusty files and folders. The walls were lined with shelves packed with documents...ledgers, contracts, sealed envelopes. Chaos lived here, frozen in time.
David stepped forward, his eyes scanning the papers. Then he froze.
He picked up one of the documents. The header bore the Georges' company logo...bold, unmistakable.
"Oh my God…" he murmured.
Kate moved beside him, her eyes scanning another pile. "David… these are money transfers, secret accounts... offshore holdings. These aren't just shady deals. This is organized crime."
She turned to him, her face pale. "Racheals family is something terrible."
David's breath caught in his throat. "We have to tell Racheal...she should've been here by now."
Kate nodded.
"But we don't have time. We need to get out. This isn't safe."
Then...a sound.
Footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Measured.
Coming from the staircase above.
Kate froze, her hand instinctively reaching for David's. "Racheal?" she called, her voice strained with hope.
"Racheal, is that you?" David echoed, stepping toward the stairs.
The footsteps grew louder.
But there was no reply.
Kate's grip tightened. "What if she is not the one?"
Before David could respond, three menacing figures appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Their eyes were cold and calculating, their faces twisted into snarls. They were dressed in black. Their eyes were hard, void of emotion, and their presence alone choked the air out of the room.