Chapter 6 - The Secret in the Floorboards
With Cassandra’s legal assault shattered into a million pieces and the police escorting her out of the building in tears of pure rage, Richard returned to the mansion late that evening.
The house was warm. The smell of roasted chicken and fresh-baked bread drifted from the kitchen.
Eleanor Vance met him in the hallway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "He’s asleep," she whispered. "He ate a full dinner, drank two glasses of milk, and asked if you were coming home tonight."
"Thank you, Eleanor," Richard said, loosening his tie as exhaustion finally caught up with him. "How is he holding up?"
"Better than you'd think, Mr. Blackwood. Resilience in children is a remarkable thing, provided they feel safe. But..." Eleanor hesitated, her expression turning grave. "There's something you need to see. In his bedroom."
Richard’s heart skipped a beat. "What is it?"
"When I was changing the sheets on his bed, I noticed the floorboards near the baseboard heater were loose. Ethan was terrified I was going to throw away what he kept in there."
Richard followed Eleanor up the stairs and into Ethan’s silent, softly lit bedroom.
Kneeling beside the mahogany bed, Eleanor pointed to a small, hand-carved hatch in the wooden flooring. Richard gently lifted it.
Inside the dark cavity lay a small, pathetic collection of items wrapped in tattered napkins:
Three hard dinner rolls he had smuggled from school two weeks prior.
A bent plastic spoon.
A small, faded photograph of Richard and Ethan taken five years ago, before Cassandra ever moved in—back when they used to go camping by the lake.
And a handwritten note scrawled in shaky, childish eight-year-old handwriting: “Please let Daddy notice me before I disappear.”
Richard Blackwood, the billionaire investor who had stared down hostile takeovers, negotiated nine-figure mergers, and destroyed corporate rivals without batting an eye, broke down completely.
He covered his face with his hands, his broad shoulders shaking as silent, agonizing sobs tore through his chest.
Eleanor placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He kept that note hidden for two years, Mr. Blackwood. He was terrified that if he asked for help, you would leave him too."
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Richard wiped his eyes, his expression hardening into a vow written in blood and bone.
"He will never have to hide anything ever again," Richard whispered.
