Chapter 1 - The Knock Behind the Wall
The first knock was so faint I almost blamed the ballroom.
I was halfway down the east hallway of the Carter mansion with a tray of champagne balanced on one hand when I heard it.
A soft thump.
Nothing more.
Behind me, nearly a hundred wealthy guests were laughing beneath crystal chandeliers.
A jazz pianist played near the windows.
Waiters crossed polished marble carrying silver trays.
Every room glittered.
Everything smelled like flowers, perfume, expensive wine, and money.
I kept walking.
Then it came again.
Thump.
Thump.
I stopped.
That was not music.
I turned toward the wall.
An enormous oil painting hung there in a gold frame.
It showed a little girl beside a lake, dressed in white.
Earlier, another server had joked that the frame probably cost more than both our cars.
I stared at it.
Nothing happened.
“Rachel?”
I turned.
One of the catering staff stood near the ballroom entrance.
“You coming?”
“Yeah.”
He disappeared.
I took one step.
Thump.
My stomach tightened.
I placed my tray on a narrow table.
Then I walked toward the painting.
“Hello?”
Silence.
I felt ridiculous.
Maybe there were pipes behind the wall.
Maybe some old heating system.
I leaned closer.
“Hello?”
For several seconds I heard nothing except my own breathing.
Then I heard a sob.
A child’s sob.
My entire body went cold.
I pressed my ear against the canvas.
“Can you hear me?”
Another sob.
Then a tiny voice whispered from somewhere behind the painting.
“Help me.”
I stumbled backward.
I looked toward the ballroom.
Nobody could see me from there.
Music continued.
People laughed.
Someone had just announced another bottle of champagne.
Meanwhile, a child was crying inside a wall.
I grabbed the side of the massive frame.
It barely moved.
I pulled harder.
The frame scraped against the wall.
A thin black line appeared behind it.
I pulled again.
The painting swung farther.
Behind it was an opening.
Not a doorway.
Not exactly.
It was a narrow compartment built between two walls.
Dark.
Windowless.
Barely large enough for an adult to crouch inside.
And there, curled against the back wall, was a little girl.
For one terrible second, neither of us moved.
She looked about four.
Her brown hair had partly fallen from two pale pink bows.
Her dress was dusty.
Her cheeks were streaked with tears.
Two huge gray eyes stared at me.
Then I noticed her hands.
Her wrists had been tied together.
“Oh my God.”
She flinched.
I immediately crouched.
“No, sweetheart. It’s okay.”
She pushed herself deeper into the corner.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her lower lip trembled.
Red marks circled both wrists.
I wanted to rush inside.
I wanted to tear the rope away.
Instead I forced myself to remain still.
“My name is Rachel.”
She said nothing.
“What’s your name?”
Her eyes remained fixed on me.
“Can I help you come out?”
Fresh tears filled her eyes.
Then she whispered something that made my chest ache.
“Please don’t close it again.”
I forgot about the party.
Forgot about my job.
Forgot I was inside one of the most powerful families’ homes in the city.
Someone had put this little girl here.
Someone had closed the painting over her.
“I won’t.”
I moved closer.
“I promise.”
I reached toward the rope.
Then I heard heels behind me.
Click.
Click.
Click.
I turned.
Vanessa Carter stood at the end of the hallway.
I recognized her instantly.
Every member of the catering staff had been shown pictures of our hosts.
Vanessa was impossible to mistake anyway.
Emerald satin gown.
Diamonds at her ears.
Dark hair arranged perfectly over one shoulder.
Champagne glass in one hand.
She looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine.
But her face was wrong.
She was not shocked.
She looked at the moved painting.
Then at me.
Then at the little girl.
And she simply stopped.
I waited for her to scream.
To drop the glass.
To run toward the child.
She did none of those things.
Her jaw tightened.
“What are you doing?”
I stared at her.
“What am I doing?”
She started walking toward me.
“Step away from there.”
“There’s a child behind your wall.”
“I can see that.”
Her calmness frightened me more than shouting would have.
I pointed at the girl.
“Her wrists are tied.”
Vanessa glanced toward the ballroom.
“Lower your voice.”
I almost laughed.
“Why?”
“Because my guests are twenty feet away.”
“Why is she in there?”
Vanessa took another step.
“That doesn’t concern you.”
I could barely process the sentence.
“A tied-up child doesn’t concern me?”
“Rachel, isn’t it?”
I froze.
She knew my name.
Vanessa gave me a thin smile.
“You work for the caterer.”
“Yes.”
“Then do your job.”
Behind me came a tiny whimper.
I turned.
The girl had pressed herself against the wall again.
She was staring at Vanessa.
Terrified.
Not nervous.
Not embarrassed.
Terrified.
Vanessa noticed me looking.
“She has behavioral problems.”
I looked back at her.
“She’s four.”
“She throws violent tantrums.”
I stared at the marks on the child’s wrists.
“She tied herself?”
Vanessa’s eyes hardened.
“You have no idea what happens in this family.”
“Then explain it.”
“I don’t owe a server an explanation.”
She lifted the champagne glass and took a small sip.
The gesture was so casual that something inside me snapped.
I stepped between Vanessa and the opening.
Her expression changed.
“Move.”
“No.”
“You are standing in my home.”
“And there is a little girl tied up inside your wall.”
Vanessa lowered her glass.
“Move.”
“No.”
She looked past me.
“Lily.”
The child became silent instantly.
I turned.
So her name was Lily.
Vanessa spoke softly.
“Tell Rachel you were put there because you were being dangerous.”
Lily’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
“Tell her.”
Lily shook her head.
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“Lily.”
The child folded in on herself.
That was when I understood.
Vanessa had used her name like a weapon.
I reached into the compartment.
Lily recoiled at first.
“It’s okay.”
I touched the rope.
“I’m getting you out.”
Vanessa stepped toward me.
“Do not untie her.”
I looked over my shoulder.
“Call security if you want.”
“You’ll regret this.”
“Maybe.”
My hands shook as I worked at the knot.
“But she won’t stay in there.”
Vanessa stared at me.
I finally loosened the rope.
Lily immediately pulled her hands toward her chest.
I reached for her.
She hesitated.
Then she threw herself into my arms.
I lifted her.
She weighed almost nothing.
Her entire body trembled against mine.
Vanessa whispered, “Give her to me.”
Lily clutched my uniform.
“No!”
Her scream echoed down the hallway.
The ballroom music faltered.
Voices lowered.
Guests began turning.
Vanessa looked toward them.
For the first time, fear appeared in her eyes.
Not fear for Lily.
Fear of being seen.
She stepped close enough that I could smell her perfume.
“Put the painting back.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Put it back.”
Lily buried her face in my neck.
Vanessa smiled coldly.
“You have no idea what you’re destroying.”
I looked at the trembling child in my arms.
Then at the dark compartment behind the painting.
And finally back at Vanessa.
“No.”
Guests were already appearing at the end of the hallway.
A man’s voice called Vanessa’s name.
She turned pale.
I tightened my arms around Lily.
The most frightening thing in that mansion had never been hidden behind the wall.
May you like
It was standing in front of me holding champagne.
And now everyone was about to see her.
