Chapter 8 - The Man Behind the Wall
Penelope stared into the hidden passage and whispered, “My father is dead.”
The red light above the old intercom stayed on.
Then the man laughed.
Not loudly.
Not cruelly.
Almost sadly.
“That is what Margaret was supposed to tell you.”
Penelope turned toward her mother.
Margaret Hayes looked as if the floor had disappeared beneath her.
“Mom.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Don’t listen to him.”
“You told me Daniel Vale died.”
“He did.”
The voice came through the speaker again.
“Margaret.”
She flinched.
Penelope saw it.
Recognition.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Dante saw it too.
“You know that voice,” he said.
Margaret closed her eyes.
Vittorio Moretti stepped away from the wall.
For the first time since appearing in the cellar, he looked uncertain.
“That isn’t possible.”
The speaker crackled.
“Still saying that, Vittorio?”
Vittorio went pale.
Dante looked from his uncle to the intercom.
“Who is he?”
No answer.
Dante grabbed Vittorio’s coat.
“Who?”
Vittorio shoved his hand away.
“If that man is who I think he is, we have a larger problem.”
Penelope almost laughed.
“A larger problem than kidnapping my mother?”
“I didn’t kidnap her.”
Margaret stared at him.
“You put me in a chair and tied my hands.”
“For your protection.”
“Men like you always love that sentence.”
Penelope looked at Dante.
Something passed over his face.
He had used almost the same logic with her more than once.
He knew it.
So did she.
He looked away first.
Caroline approached the hidden doorway.
“Daniel?”
The speaker went silent.
Caroline tried again.
“Daniel Vale?”
A mechanical click sounded from deeper inside.
Then another.
Dante immediately moved in front of Penelope.
The hidden passage lights came on one by one.
A narrow corridor appeared.
Brick walls.
Old electrical conduit.
Concrete floor.
At the far end stood a steel door.
Penelope’s heart hammered.
The speaker beside them came alive.
“If you want answers, bring Penelope.”
Dante said, “No.”
The voice answered immediately.
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
Dante’s face hardened.
Penelope stepped around him.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You really need another word.”
“This one works.”
“Not on me.”
Vittorio said, “For once, listen to him.”
Penelope turned sharply.
“You don’t get a vote.”
“Penelope—”
“You threatened my mother.”
“I needed Elena’s letter.”
“So you tied up a sixty-year-old woman?”
Margaret muttered, “Fifty-eight.”
Despite everything, Penelope looked at her.
Her mother gave a tiny shrug.
For one absurd second, Penelope almost laughed.
Then she remembered the voice.
Her father.
Or someone claiming to be him.
She turned back to the corridor.
Caroline caught her arm.
“If that’s Daniel, something is wrong.”
“You knew him?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because Elena said Daniel died before she found Lucia.”
Margaret spoke quietly.
“He did.”
Penelope turned.
“Then explain that voice.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears.
“Penny, there are things I kept from you because I wanted you to have a normal life.”
“A normal life?”
Penelope pointed at the hidden wall beneath her restaurant.
“My ex tried to steal my business. A missing woman showed up in a hotel service corridor. My name was written in a dead woman’s letter before she supposedly knew me. And someone who sounds familiar to you is calling himself my dead father from behind my wine cellar.”
Her voice broke.
“So forgive me if I’m done with normal.”
Margaret looked down.
Penelope softened only slightly.
“Tell me.”
Her mother took a long breath.
“Daniel disappeared when you were four.”
Penelope froze.
“You said he died trying to get to me.”
“I believed he did.”
“Believed?”
“His car was found near the river.”
“Body?”
Margaret said nothing.
“Mom.”
“No.”
Penelope stared.
“There was no body?”
“No.”
“And you told me he was dead.”
“I told you Michael Hayes was your father.”
“He was.”
Margaret nodded quickly.
“Yes. He was. In every way that mattered.”
“Then why change my name in 1999?”
Margaret swallowed.
“Because Daniel told me to.”
The red light on the intercom flickered.
Penelope’s skin went cold.
“He contacted you?”
“One last time.”
“When?”
“The night we left Chicago.”
“What did he say?”
Margaret looked toward the steel door.
“He said people were coming.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t know which side.”
Dante frowned.
“Which side of what?”
Margaret looked at him.
“Your family’s war.”
Vittorio cursed under his breath.
Dante turned.
“What war?”
Vittorio shook his head.
“Old history.”
“Apparently not old enough.”
“Dante.”
“My sister died because of this history.”
Vittorio’s voice hardened.
“Your sister died because she wouldn’t stop digging.”
Caroline stepped forward.
“That sounds dangerously close to blaming her.”
Vittorio looked at her.
“I begged Elena to stop.”
“You knew what she found?”
“Pieces.”
“Did you know about Lucia?”
Vittorio did not answer.
Caroline’s face changed.
“You did.”
Dante stepped toward his uncle.
“You knew she was alive.”
“For some time.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
Dante’s voice dropped.
“And you let us believe she was dead.”
“I kept her alive.”
“Where is she?”
Vittorio looked toward the corridor.
“I don’t know anymore.”
The voice on the speaker interrupted.
“He’s lying.”
Everyone froze.
Vittorio stared at the intercom.
“You always did enjoy this.”
The voice answered.
“And you always lied badly when frightened.”
Penelope stepped closer to the speaker.
“If you’re Daniel Vale, tell me something.”
Silence.
“Something only my father would know.”
Margaret whispered, “Penny.”
Penelope ignored her.
The voice returned.
“When you were three, you wouldn’t sleep unless someone left the kitchen light on.”
Penelope’s breath stopped.
Her mother covered her mouth.
The voice continued.
“You called pancakes ‘pan-cakes’ with a pause in the middle because you thought they were two separate foods.”
Penelope’s eyes filled.
No.
A stranger could have learned that.
From her mother.
From records.
From someone else.
Then the voice said, “You had a stuffed rabbit named Captain Blue even though he was yellow.”
Penelope stared at Margaret.
Her mother was crying.
Nobody outside their family knew that.
Nobody.
“He knew,” Margaret whispered.
Dante looked at Penelope.
She could feel his concern without turning.
The speaker crackled.
“Come through the door, Penny.”
Her entire body went cold.
Only two men had ever called her Penny without making her angry.
Michael Hayes.
And the voice she barely remembered from dreams she had stopped trusting years ago.
Penelope stepped into the corridor.
Dante followed.
She turned.
“He asked for me.”
“He gets you with me or not at all.”
She almost argued.
Then didn't.
This time she was grateful.
Marco moved forward.
Dante held up a hand.
“No.”
“Boss.”
“Stay with Margaret.”
Vittorio laughed bitterly.
“You trust the wrong people.”
Dante looked at him.
“So far, Marco hasn't kidnapped anyone.”
Margaret said, “Again, I would like everyone to stop using a softer word for being tied to a chair.”
Caroline hurried to her.
“I can cut the restraints.”
Vittorio immediately said, “Don’t.”
Everyone looked at him.
“The wire.”
Dante crouched.
The thin line attached to Margaret’s chair continued beneath the floor molding.
“Pressure trigger?”
Vittorio nodded.
“If the chair moves.”
Penelope stared at him.
“You did rig it.”
“To an alarm.”
“Not an explosive?”
“No.”
Dante looked at Marco.
“Verify.”
Marco knelt beside the wire.
Penelope entered the corridor.
Dante stayed beside her.
Behind them, Caroline called, “Penelope.”
She turned.
Caroline held Elena’s torn letter pieces.
“Take these.”
Penelope walked back and accepted them.
“Why?”
“Because Elena wanted you to have them.”
Penelope slipped the pieces into her coat pocket.
Then she and Dante moved deeper underground.
The hidden corridor was longer than it had appeared.
They passed old storage rooms.
Most empty.
One contained shelves of dusty accounting books.
Another held disconnected computer towers from another era.
Penelope slowed.
“My restaurant has been sitting over this for seven years.”
Dante ran his fingertips along the brick.
“Probably longer.”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“I believe you.”
He met her eyes.
The simple statement seemed to affect him.
“Thank you.”
They continued.
Halfway down the corridor, Penelope noticed brass plaques embedded beside several doors.
Dates.
She stopped.
The year her name changed.
Dante saw it.
“That one.”
The door was locked.
Penelope touched the plaque.
A faint inscription appeared beneath the date.
DV.
Daniel Vale.
Her fingers trembled.
“Dante.”
He looked.
Before either could speak, the intercom overhead activated.
“Not yet.”
Penelope looked up.
“You can see us?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere that matters.”
Dante scanned the ceiling and found an old camera hidden inside a pipe fitting.
His jaw tightened.
“How did you get access?”
The voice ignored him.
Penelope continued toward the steel door.
It had no handle.
Only a small metal plate.
A circular indentation occupied the center.
Dante examined it.
“A ring.”
Penelope understood.
“Elena’s ring.”
The one stolen at Union Station.
The speaker came alive.
“Correct.”
Her stomach tightened.
“You had the man take it?”
“No.”
“Richard?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“You’re still assuming everyone you met is playing for the same team.”
Dante said, “Open the door.”
“No.”
“Then this conversation ends.”
The man laughed softly.
“You sound like your father.”
Dante became still.
“Did you know him?”
“Better than his children did.”
The insult landed.
Dante’s face hardened.
Penelope stepped closer to the steel door.
“You don’t have Elena’s ring.”
“No.”
“Then how do we open this?”
“Your hand.”
She stared at the plate.
Vittorio had mentioned identity.
Blood.
The circular indentation might have been a decoy.
Beside it was a tiny needle port.
Dante saw it.
“No.”
Penelope sighed.
“You've said that enough tonight.”
“We don’t know what it takes.”
“A drop of blood.”
“We don't know that.”
The voice said, “He’s right.”
Penelope looked toward the camera.
“Then what?”
“Three things.”
“What things?”
“Blood.”
Dante muttered something under his breath.
“The ring.”
“And?”
Silence.
Penelope waited.
The voice finally said, “A name.”
“What name?”
“Yours.”
She frowned.
“Penelope Hayes?”
“No.”
The answer came softly.
“The one you were born with.”
Penelope felt the air leave her lungs.
She turned toward Dante.
“I don’t know it.”
The speaker replied.
“Margaret does.”
Penelope walked back immediately.
Dante followed.
When they reached the cellar, Marco had disconnected the wire.
Margaret stood beside Caroline rubbing her wrists.
Penelope stopped in front of her.
“What was my name?”
Margaret went pale.
“Penny.”
“My name.”
“Penelope.”
“Not Hayes.”
Margaret looked toward Vittorio.
He said nothing.
Penelope stepped closer.
“What surname did Daniel give me?”
Her mother began shaking.
“Why?”
“The door needs it.”
Vittorio’s head snapped up.
“What door?”
“The steel one.”
His expression changed.
“No.”
Dante looked at him.
“You've seen it?”
“No.”
“But you know what it is.”
Vittorio moved toward Penelope.
“Do not open that door.”
She stared.
“Why?”
“Because whatever Daniel put there was supposed to disappear.”
The speaker behind the wall activated again.
“Still protecting him, Vittorio?”
Vittorio shouted toward the passage.
“You should have stayed dead!”
Silence followed.
Then the voice laughed.
Penelope’s mother began crying harder.
“Mom.”
Margaret looked at her daughter.
Penelope took her hands.
“I need the name.”
“I promised Daniel.”
“He’s asking me to open it.”
“You don’t know that’s Daniel.”
Penelope's voice softened.
“Then give me one thing tonight that’s mine.”
Margaret looked at her.
“My own name.”
That broke her.
She closed her eyes.
“Vale.”
Penelope waited.
Margaret shook her head.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Daniel used Vale after he entered the Halcyon group.”
“What was his real name?”
Margaret looked at Vittorio.
Vittorio whispered, “Don’t.”
Dante stepped between them.
“Say it.”
Margaret’s voice trembled.
“Daniel Moretti.”
Nobody moved.
Penelope thought she had misheard.
Dante stared at her mother.
Vittorio closed his eyes.
Penelope whispered, “Moretti?”
Margaret nodded.
“Daniel was born Daniel Moretti.”
Dante looked at Vittorio.
“Who was he?”
Vittorio said nothing.
“Who?”
Margaret answered.
“Your father’s younger brother.”
The world tilted.
Penelope looked at Dante.
He looked equally stunned.
Her biological father had been a Moretti.
Which meant—
Dante understood at the same moment.
“You’re my cousin.”
Penelope stared at him.
Then almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
“No.”
Margaret quickly shook her head.
“Not by blood.”
Everyone turned toward her.
Dante frowned.
“You just said Daniel was my father’s brother.”
“Raised as his brother.”
Vittorio stepped forward.
“Margaret.”
“No more.”
Her voice suddenly became strong.
“No more protecting dead men and frightened men and powerful men.”
She looked at Penelope.
“Daniel was adopted.”
Dante exhaled.
Penelope did too, though she hated that part of her even noticed.
Margaret continued.
“No one outside the family knew. Daniel discovered it when he was twenty-six.”
“What does that have to do with Halcyon?” Penelope asked.
“Everything.”
Vittorio’s face had become grim.
“Margaret, stop.”
She ignored him.
“Daniel’s biological father founded the Halcyon Room.”
Penelope stared.
“Who?”
Margaret looked toward the hidden corridor.
“The man Richard Holloway was named after.”
Dante went still.
“Richard Holloway Senior?”
“No.”
Margaret shook her head.
“His grandfather.”
Penelope felt sick.
“So my father was connected to the Holloways?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He was the illegitimate son of Charles Holloway.”
Vittorio cursed.
Penelope stood motionless.
Richard.
Her ex.
The man who had targeted her.
Not randomly.
Not because of Bellavere alone.
Because someone knew exactly who she was.
Dante’s face became deadly.
“Richard knew.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Maybe not at first.”
Penelope remembered four years.
Every question.
Every bank statement.
Every introduction.
Every moment she had mistaken interest for love.
“When did he find out?”
Margaret whispered, “That’s what Daniel tried to prevent.”
The intercom crackled.
“Bring her back.”
Penelope turned toward the passage.
The voice was weaker now.
Hurried.
Something had changed.
Dante heard it too.
“What's wrong?”
No answer.
Penelope started toward the corridor.
Then every light in Bellavere went out.
Darkness swallowed the cellar.
Margaret screamed.
Marco drew his weapon.
Dante grabbed Penelope’s hand.
“Stay with me.”
Emergency lights flashed red.
Once.
Twice.
Then remained on.
The hidden passage was still open.
But the steel door at the far end was no longer closed.
Penelope stared.
A narrow black gap appeared along its edge.
Dante stepped in front of her.
“Someone opened it from the other side.”
A sound came from inside.
A chair scraping.
Then a man coughed.
Penelope walked toward the doorway.
Dante stayed beside her.
They reached it.
The steel door slowly swung wider.
A hand appeared around the edge.
Old.
Bleeding.
On one finger was Elena Moretti’s missing diamond ring.
Penelope stopped.
The man behind the door whispered her childhood nickname.
Then he stepped into the red light.
May you like
Margaret screamed from the cellar.
“Daniel?”
