Chapter 2 - The Cedar PanelThe heavy oak doors swung inward, releasing a wave of trapped air that smelled faintly of gardenias and dust—Claire’s favorite perfume, frozen in time.
Adrian stepped inside, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The room was exactly as Claire had left it on the morning of her final business trip. Her makeup brushes still sat in a crystal jar on her vanity. A silk robe was draped casually over the velvet chaise lounge. A half-read book lay face-down on the nightstand, its pages yellowing slightly at the edges.
“Adrian, don't,” Natalie whispered, stepping into the room behind him. Her hand covered her mouth as she looked around, tears finally spilling over her lashes. “It’s like a grave in here. Why did you keep it like this?”
“Because I couldn't bear to let her go,” Adrian answered, his voice hollow. He didn't look back at Madison, who stood in the doorway, refusing to cross the threshold, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist as if shielding herself from a freezing wind.
“Mr. Westwood,” Emma piped up from her mother’s arms, pointing a tiny finger toward the far corner of the expansive master walk-in closet. “It’s right there. Behind the sparkly dresses.”
Adrian swallowed hard. He crossed the bedroom floor, his shoes sinking into the thick Persian rug. The walk-in closet was vast, lined with mahogany shelving and rows of designer garments.
He pushed past a row of winter coats and evening gowns. The fabric brushed against his palms like dry whispers.
And there it was.
The cedar panel.
It was seamless, built flush into the structural wall by Adrian’s own hands three years ago. To anyone else, it looked like a decorative wood accent panel matching the shelving. But Adrian knew the exact pressure point—a hidden latch near the bottom right corner, engineered to release only when pushed inward and slid upward simultaneously.
Behind him, Madison’s voice cut through the silence, high and shrill.
“This is a violation! You’re tearing open a dead woman’s private space for a child’s hallucination! Adrian, if you open that panel, we are done. Our engagement is over!”
Adrian paused, his fingers hovering millimeters away from the hidden latch. He turned his head slowly, looking back over his shoulder at the woman he had almost married.
“Our engagement ended the moment Emma described the way your shoes click on the hardwood at midnight,” Adrian said coldly.
He pressed the latch.
Clack.
The hidden cedar panel gave way with a soft pneumatic hiss, sliding smoothly back into the wall to reveal a dark, narrow alcove.
Natalie gasped. Rachel pulled Emma’s face tightly into her shoulder, shielding her eyes.
Adrian reached his hand into the dark recess. His fingers brushed against cold leather, crisp paper, and then—something small, hard, and metallic.
He pulled it out into the light of the bedroom.
May you like
It was a red Cartier jewelry box.
And resting right beside it was a legal-sized manila envelope, sealed with red wax bearing Claire’s personal monogram.
