Chapter 9: Victor’s Gold Watch Marked The Hour Her Past Returned
Victor stood beneath the dead chandelier as if the mansion still belonged to him. The power outage had left the foyer gray and uneven, lit only by Damien’s phone and the weak candles Elena had managed to save from the broken tray. Victor’s charcoal suit remained immaculate. His gold watch caught the flashlight each time he lifted his wrist, flashing like a signal.
I kept my hands folded over the front of my skirt. The key from the hidden floor pressed against my palm through the fabric, its teeth biting into my skin.
Damien stood between Victor and the corridor leading downstairs. He had not raised his voice or moved quickly. That made him more dangerous than anger would have. His attention stayed on Victor, but I could feel him tracking every shift of my body.
Victor’s gaze dropped to my hands.
The watch showed a time that had stopped matching the dark mansion hours ago. Its second hand trembled, then continued. I watched it cross the twelve.
The memory beneath the floor had been real. The papers, the old object marked Rossi, the evidence that connected my concealed name to this house—it had all been real. Now Victor was here, and the room below was no longer secret.
He extended one hand toward me.
I did not take it.
Damien’s phone light moved across Victor’s face and settled on the smile he wore when he expected obedience. Victor looked past Damien at the staircase, then back at me. He did not need to explain what he wanted. His presence had already turned the discovery into a threat.
I stepped away from him and toward the service corridor.
It was a small movement, but it changed the room. If Victor saw me as a housekeeper, I could use that. I picked up the fallen candle tray with one gloved hand, gathered the unbroken candles, and set them on the nearest console. My employment had always depended on being useful and unnoticed. For one more minute, I tried to disappear inside the work.
Victor followed with his eyes.
Damien looked at the cut on my glove where the glass had caught me earlier. Then he looked toward the basement door. The lock was no longer in its original position. Dust had gathered along the threshold in a thin, disturbed line.
His expression changed.
He understood that Victor was not an unwanted visitor who had arrived at an inconvenient hour. Victor had come to the mansion because something had been opened.
I slipped the key from my palm and pushed it into the torn seam beneath the tray’s lining. The fabric resisted. I forced it farther until the metal vanished. If Victor searched me, he would find nothing. If Damien noticed, he would know I had chosen concealment over his protection.
The choice endangered my position either way. Keeping the evidence from Victor meant lying inside Damien’s house. Taking it out meant risking the only place where my work had kept me safe.
Victor moved toward the console.
I placed myself between him and the corridor.
Damien’s voice came quietly through the dark. “What are you trying to tell me, Elena?”
My throat tightened. I lowered my eyes, refusing to give Victor the answer he wanted. The silence became its own admission.
Victor’s gold watch flashed again. He checked it, then reached for the basement key hanging beside the service bell.
I caught his wrist before his fingers closed around it.
The smile left his face.
May you like
For the first time, Damien looked directly at him—not as a visitor, but as an immediate danger inside his home.
Victor’s hand tightened under mine. The candles guttered. Somewhere beyond the foyer, a door began to open.
Related Stories
