Chapter 2 - The Rule of the Locked Door
Vadim shut the folder before Gerald entered.
Elara noticed.
Her father did too.
“What is this?” Gerald demanded.
Vadim remained beside the desk.
“The reception is downstairs.”
“I need to speak with my daughter.”
“You had twenty-six years.”
Gerald's face reddened.
“This is family business.”
Vadim looked at Elara.
“Do you want to speak with him?”
The question startled both Fagans.
Gerald recovered first.
“She doesn't need permission to speak to her father.”
“That wasn't what I asked.”
Vadim's gaze stayed on Elara.
She realized he was waiting for her answer.
“No.”
Gerald stared.
Elara's heartbeat accelerated.
“No?”
“I don't want to speak with you.”
For the first time in her life, she watched her father confront a version of her he had not trained.
Gerald stepped forward.
Vadim did not.
He merely looked at him.
Gerald stopped anyway.
“You don't know what you're doing.”
“Perhaps not.”
“You think Sokolov saved you?”
“I didn't say that.”
“He bought you.”
Elara flinched.
Vadim's voice dropped.
“Leave.”
Gerald pointed at the folder.
“You don't understand what's in there.”
“That makes two of us,” Elara said.
Her father looked at her sharply.
Then he saw the pendant.
Fear flashed across his face.
Only for a second.
But Vadim caught it.
“Where did you find that?”
Elara's fingers closed around the necklace.
“You gave it to me.”
“I made a mistake.”
Gerald reached for it.
Vadim caught his wrist.
The room became silent.
“Don't.”
Gerald slowly pulled away.
“You have no idea what you're involving yourself in.”
Vadim's expression barely changed.
“I usually do.”
Gerald left.
The stranger who had been standing outside was already gone.
Elara turned to Vadim.
“Who was that man?”
“I intend to find out.”
“And the numbers?”
“That too.”
She looked toward the ballroom.
“Our wedding reception is still happening.”
“Yes.”
“And you're investigating my mother.”
“Yes.”
“This is a strange wedding.”
That earned the smallest curve at the corner of his mouth.
“You haven't seen strange yet.”
By midnight, Elara was riding through Chicago beside the man she had married that afternoon.
Vadim's residence stood behind iron gates on several wooded acres north of the city.
Elara expected guards.
There were guards.
She expected cameras.
There were more cameras than she could count.
She expected darkness and intimidating rooms.
Instead, the house was warm.
Not cozy exactly.
But lived in.
Books filled shelves.
An old piano occupied one corner.
A sleepy golden retriever appeared from somewhere and immediately rested its head against Elara's gown.
She stared.
Vadim removed his jacket.
“Traitor.”
The dog wagged harder.
“You have a dog?”
“Apparently he has me.”
Elara laughed.
The sound surprised her.
Vadim looked at her.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then an older woman appeared.
“Mr. Sokolov.”
“Anna.”
Her eyes moved to Elara and softened.
“You must be exhausted.”
Elara nodded.
Anna led her upstairs.
Vadim followed at a distance.
At the end of the hallway stood two doors.
Anna opened the first.
“This is yours.”
Elara stopped.
“My room?”
Vadim nodded.
“And yours?”
He indicated the next door.
Elara stared at him.
“You meant what you said.”
“Yes.”
Nothing happens until you want it.
Something inside her loosened.
Vadim handed her a key.
“This locks from inside. Nobody has another key.”
“Not even you?”
“Especially me.”
She curled her fingers around it.
There had never been a locked door in Gerald Fagan's house that he could not open.
“Thank you.”
Vadim nodded.
Then he turned away.
“Vadim?”
He stopped.
“Why did you marry me?”
For the first time, he hesitated.
“Your father offered something I needed.”
Her brief sense of safety cracked.
“Of course.”
“Elara—”
“Good night.”
She closed the door.
But sleep did not come.
At two seventeen in the morning, Elara was still sitting beside the window when she heard footsteps outside.
Not Vadim.
These were lighter.
She opened her door.
The hallway was empty.
Then she noticed the door at the far end.
Someone had left it open.
Inside was a small office.
A desk lamp burned.
Elara stepped closer.
A photograph lay on the desk.
She recognized her mother instantly.
Evelyn was younger.
Laughing.
Standing beside a man Elara had never seen.
On the photograph's back was the same sequence.
11-7-19-4.
Elara's hands began trembling.
A floorboard creaked behind her.
She spun around.
Vadim stood in the doorway.
“Where did you get this?”
“It wasn't here an hour ago.”
Elara stared at him.
“Someone put it here?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Vadim's eyes moved toward the dark hallway.
Then his phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His face hardened.
“What?”
Vadim turned the screen toward her.
Security footage showed a figure entering the house.
The timestamp was twelve minutes earlier.
Elara stared at the man's face.
She had seen him before.
Outside the sitting room.
At the wedding.
Vadim enlarged the image.
The stranger was carrying something.
A second photograph.
On its back, visible beneath his thumb, someone had written two words.
YOUR FATHER.
Then the security system went dark.
May you like
Every light in the hallway switched off.
And downstairs, glass shattered.
