Chapter 2 - The Bedroom With No Lock on the Outside
Morgana expected gates.
There were gates.
She expected armed men.
There were plenty.
She expected Roman Costa’s estate to look like a fortress.
She had underestimated it.
The mansion sat beyond several hundred acres of winter-bare woods north of Chicago. Security cameras followed the SUV along the private road. A stone wall surrounded the property. Men in dark coats watched from guardhouses.
Morgana counted every possible escape route.
Habit.
The SUV stopped beneath a wide covered entrance.
Roman stepped out first.
Morgana remained seated.
He leaned toward the open door.
“You can stay in the car if you want.”
“What happens if I do?”
“Eventually Marco will complain because he likes keeping the engine clean.”
From the driver’s seat, the large bald man grunted.
“Damn right.”
It was the first thing he had said.
Morgana nearly smiled.
She hated herself for it.
Roman noticed.
He pretended not to.
Inside, the mansion was quieter than Morgana expected. No parties. No women draped across furniture. No men shouting into telephones.
Warm lights reflected from dark hardwood floors.
An older woman approached.
“This is Mrs. Alvarez,” Roman said. “She manages the house.”
Mrs. Alvarez looked Morgana over once.
Not judgmentally.
Assessingly.
“You’ve eaten?”
Morgana shook her head.
“Thought so.”
She took Morgana’s duffel.
Morgana tightened her grip.
Mrs. Alvarez released it immediately.
“Okay. You carry it.”
That small choice nearly broke Morgana.
Roman led her upstairs.
Third door on the right.
He opened it.
A bedroom waited.
Not a cell.
A bedroom.
Cream walls.
Large windows.
A fireplace.
A bed with a thick quilt.
Private bathroom.
Closet.
A small desk overlooking the trees.
Morgana walked inside cautiously.
Roman remained in the doorway.
“The lock works from your side.”
She turned.
“What?”
“The bedroom door.”
She tested it.
A normal lock.
No deadbolt outside.
No chain.
No bars.
Roman placed an envelope on the dresser.
“What’s that?”
“Money.”
Her stomach tightened.
“For what?”
“You left with nine minutes’ worth of belongings.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Then don’t spend it.”
He turned to leave.
“Wait.”
Roman stopped.
Morgana hugged herself.
“I still don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us.”
“You took forty thousand dollars off my father’s debt.”
“Yes.”
“For me.”
“No.”
“You literally wrote it in the contract.”
Roman returned slowly.
He stood several feet away, careful not to crowd her.
“I erased his debt because I wanted his signature on a document separating you from him financially.”
“Why would you care?”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“That answer comes later.”
“No.”
Morgana surprised herself.
“For twenty-two years everyone has told me answers come later. My mother would explain later. Dad would stop drinking later. The lights would come back on later. My paycheck would be mine later.”
She pointed at the door.
“You brought me here. Tell me now.”
Roman was silent.
Then he reached inside his jacket.
Morgana flinched.
Roman stopped immediately.
He removed his hand slowly.
Not a gun.
A photograph.
He placed it on the dresser.
Morgana stared.
The picture showed her mother.
Evelyn Hale.
Much younger.
Standing beside Roman.
Morgana's blood ran cold.
Roman could not have been more than twenty-five in the photograph.
Her mother looked maybe twenty-three.
They stood outside a small neighborhood grocery store.
Both smiling.
Not posing politely.
Happy.
Morgana looked at Roman.
“You knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She saved my life.”
Morgana laughed once, disbelieving.
“My mother worked at a pharmacy.”
“She did later.”
Roman looked toward the photograph.
“Before that, she worked bookkeeping for my father.”
Morgana’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Your mother discovered someone stealing from him.”
“Who?”
Roman’s eyes returned to Morgana.
“Jason.”
She stared.
“My father?”
“He wasn't your mother's husband then. He was a driver.”
Morgana backed toward the bed.
Roman continued.
“He had a gambling problem before you were born. Evelyn found falsified invoices. She reported them.”
“Then why did she marry him?”
“She didn’t know he was responsible at first.”
Morgana shook her head.
“No. No, that doesn’t make sense.”
“It gets worse.”
“Of course it does.”
Roman's expression softened.
“Evelyn disappeared from our world shortly after she learned she was pregnant.”
Morgana stopped.
Roman said carefully, “I’ve spent years wondering why.”
“You think Jason forced her?”
“I know Jason threatened her.”
“How?”
“Because yesterday I found a letter she wrote.”
Morgana’s knees weakened.
“Where?”
“In records belonging to my late father.”
Roman looked directly into her eyes.
“The letter mentioned you.”
Morgana could barely speak.
“What did it say?”
Roman reached into his jacket again.
This time she did not flinch.
He handed her an envelope.
The paper inside was yellowed.
Her mother’s handwriting covered three pages.
Morgana recognized it from old birthday cards.
She read only the first paragraph before her vision blurred.
Roman,
If anything happens to me, please find my daughter.
Jason thinks she belongs to him because he is her father.
He is wrong.
Nobody belongs to anyone.
Morgana covered her mouth.
Roman looked away, giving her privacy.
She kept reading.
The letter described debts.
Threats.
Money Jason had hidden.
Evelyn’s plan to leave.
Then one sentence stopped Morgana's heart.
Jason knows what happened to the missing Costa money, and I’m afraid he will hurt Morgana if I tell anyone.
Morgana looked up.
“My mother died in a car accident.”
“That’s what the report says.”
“You don’t believe it.”
Roman's expression hardened.
“I believe your father knows more than he ever told you.”
Morgana stared at the photograph again.
The bedroom suddenly felt too warm.
“My father sold me today.”
“Yes.”
“And you think he may have hurt my mother.”
Roman’s voice was quiet.
“I think Jason Hale is afraid of something much bigger than forty thousand dollars.”
Morgana wiped her face.
“What?”
Roman moved toward the door.
“I intend to find out.”
She looked at the contract in her hand.
“And me?”
Roman stopped.
“You sleep.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You’re not going to tell me what I have to do?”
“No.”
“Work? Cook? Clean?”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“Then why am I here?”
Roman looked back.
“Because for the first time in your life, there is a locked gate between you and your father.”
Then he closed the door.
From the hallway.
May you like
Leaving Morgana alone.
Free to lock it herself.
