Chapter 6 - The Brother Beneath the House
Gabriel Romano did not touch the child-sized door at first.
He stood before it like a man facing a grave he had already mourned, only to hear breathing beneath the dirt.
Agent Price ordered everyone back. No one moved quickly enough for her liking, but even she seemed to understand that whatever waited behind that door belonged first to the family whose history had been carved apart by lies.
Marisa leaned heavily on Rosa, whispering Leo’s name once, then again, as if saying it might pull the boy from whatever darkness had swallowed him.
Gabriel finally reached toward the latch.
Evelyn caught his sleeve.
He looked at her.
She should not have touched him. Everyone in the room seemed to realize that at the same time. Even Agent Price glanced down at Evelyn’s fingers on Gabriel’s coat.
But Evelyn did not let go.
“Wait,” she said.
His eyes were black with grief. “Why?”
“Because if Victor wanted this found, it is a trap. If he didn’t, there may still be something dangerous behind it.”
Gabriel’s voice was almost unrecognizable. “My brother may have been behind this door.”
“I know.”
“You do not.”
That should have ended the conversation.
But Evelyn held his gaze.
“I know what it feels like to need proof so badly you stop caring whether it cuts your hands open.”
Something in his face shifted.
Not softness.
Recognition.
Agent Price stepped in. “She’s right. We clear it first.”
A technician was called down. Photos were taken. The latch was examined. No explosives. No wires. No modern lock.
Just an old iron hook.
Gabriel opened it.
The small door groaned inward.
The space beyond was not a room. It was a crawl passage, low and narrow, sloping toward the oldest part of the estate. Cold air seeped from it. Titan dropped to his belly and pushed his head inside, sniffing.
Then he crawled forward.
“Titan,” Gabriel said sharply.
The dog disappeared.
Evelyn grabbed the lamp.
Agent Price caught her arm. “You are not going in there.”
Evelyn looked at the opening. Too small for Gabriel’s shoulders. Too narrow for the armed men. Wide enough for her.
“Someone has to follow the dog.”
“No.”
From inside the passage came a low whine.
Not fear.
Urgency.
Evelyn turned to Gabriel. “He found Marisa.”
Gabriel understood before anyone else did.
Agent Price swore. “Fine. Rope around your waist. Camera on. You go ten feet and stop if I tell you.”
Evelyn almost laughed at the absurdity of federal procedure meeting a haunted mansion tunnel, but her mouth was too dry.
They tied a rope around her waist. An agent clipped a small camera to her shirt. Gabriel handed her a flashlight.
Their fingers brushed.
“Do not be brave,” he said.
Evelyn looked at the crawlspace.
“I try not to be.”
She went in.
The passage scraped her shoulders. Dust filled her throat. The stone beneath her palms was freezing. Ahead of her, Titan’s body blocked most of the light, but he moved with purpose, stopping every few feet to look back.
The tunnel turned twice.
Once, Evelyn saw marks along the wall.
Not dates.
Lines.
Like a child had scratched them while waiting.
She kept crawling.
Ten feet became twenty. Agent Price’s voice crackled faintly through the camera device, ordering her to slow down. Evelyn did not stop because Titan did not.
Then the passage opened.
She slid out onto a stone floor and stood inside a room that should not have existed.
It was beneath the mansion’s east wing, but unlike the crude storage area, this place had once been furnished with care. A small bed. A wooden desk. A painted toy chest. A faded blue rug. Shelves of books. A cracked porcelain lamp shaped like a sailboat.
A child had lived here.
Not chained.
Hidden.
Evelyn lifted the flashlight.
The walls were covered with drawings.
A black dog.
A girl with long dark hair.
A boy with angry eyebrows.
A house with too many windows.
And one drawing repeated again and again: three children holding hands outside the mansion while a tall man with no face stood between them and the door.
On the desk lay a notebook.
Evelyn picked it up with trembling hands.
The first page read:
MY NAME IS LEONARDO ROMANO. IF I FORGET, THIS IS MY NAME.
Evelyn’s eyes burned.
She turned the page.
The handwriting began childish, uneven.
Day 1. Father says this is protection.
Day 4. Gabe is mad upstairs. I heard him yelling.
Day 9. Marisa cried at the little door.
Day 15. Victor brings food. He says Gabe hates me.
Day 23. The black puppy came today. I named him Titan because he is brave.
Day 41. Vanessa visited. She smelled like flowers and lies.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Titan stood beside the bed, sniffing the old blanket.
The notebook continued for dozens of pages. Months. Then years. The handwriting changed as Leo grew older in secret. It became sharper. Angrier. More controlled.
Evelyn flipped near the end.
Gabriel does not know. Marisa does not know. Father says if they know, they die. Victor says if I try to leave, Marisa pays. I think Father is sick. I think Victor runs everything now.
Another page.
Vanessa wants the Chicago accounts. Victor wants Gabriel isolated. They both need me dead because I heard the names.
Another.
Titan keeps finding the old door. Calvin hurts him for it. I told Titan to keep trying. Dogs remember love better than people remember truth.
Evelyn’s tears fell onto the page.
Then she reached the final entry.
If anyone finds this, tell Gabriel I did not drown.
Tell Marisa I heard her singing through the wall.
Tell Titan he was a good boy.
If the lake takes me tomorrow, it will not be an accident.
Evelyn stopped breathing.
A sound came from the corner.
Tiny.
Electronic.
She turned the flashlight.
A red light blinked beneath the desk.
Not old.
New.
A camera.
The room had been watched.
Then a speaker crackled.
Victor’s voice filled the hidden nursery.
“Miss Hart, you really do have a talent for opening doors.”
Evelyn backed toward Titan.
The little door behind her slammed shut.
From somewhere overhead, a lock engaged.
May you like
Victor sighed through the speaker.
“Gabriel should have left the dead where we buried them.”
