Chapter 8 The Locked Wing
It was Delphine who first mentioned the east wing.
She said it almost in passing, like she was talking about a room under renovation or a section of the house that needed new wiring.
“The east residential wing is closed to staff and guests,” she said, walking Alex through the house’s floor plan on a tablet in her office.
“Has been for some years now.”
Alex looked at the map.
The estate was so large that he had stopped pretending he could remember where everything was.
He zoomed in on the tablet.
The east wing appeared to stretch almost as far as the main residence.
“Closed?”
“Yes.”
“Completely?”
“Completely.”
Alex looked up.
“Why?”
Delphine’s finger paused over the screen.
It was only for a second.
But Alex noticed.
She was choosing her words.
“If you ever need access, you’ll have to request it through Mr. Reyes’s office directly.”
She continued looking at the floor plan.
“The door code was changed after Mr. Voss passed away and hasn’t been reissued.”
Alex frowned.
“Why would a door in my own house need Reyes’s permission to open?”
Delphine’s expression tightened.
It was subtle, but Alex noticed it immediately.
“That is a question for Ms. Marchetti or Mr. Reyes, Mr. Tailor.”
She glanced at him.
“It’s not really mine to answer.”
Alex studied her face.
“You’ve been here a long time, haven’t you?”
“Twenty-two years.”
“Then you know why.”
Delphine’s expression remained polite.
“I know what I have been instructed to know.”
“That sounds like a very careful answer.”
“It is.”
Alex almost smiled.
“You’re good at this.”
“Years of practice.”
She returned her attention to the tablet.
“The east wing isn’t included in the regular household schedule.”
“Does anyone go in there?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
Alex stared at the map again.
The answer bothered him.
He didn’t know why.
Maybe because it was his house now.
Or at least, everyone kept telling him it was.
Yet there was a part of it he wasn’t allowed to enter.
That seemed strange.
He could understand a locked room in an old family home.
He couldn’t understand an entire wing being treated like it didn’t exist.
Still, Alex let it go.
For two days.
Then curiosity won.
Elena had left that morning for a meeting at Voss Global’s Midtown offices.
Without her, the house felt even quieter than usual.
Alex had begun to notice how different the estate became when Elena wasn’t there.
She wasn’t loud.
She didn’t dominate conversations.
She simply made the place feel occupied.
Without her, every hallway seemed longer.
Every room seemed emptier.
Alex still wasn’t sleeping well.
He still felt more like a guest in his own life than the person who supposedly owned it.
He had spent the morning going through documents with one of the lawyers.
By lunch, his head hurt.
By afternoon, he gave up pretending he was going to concentrate.
He left his room and started walking.
He didn’t have a destination.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
He passed the library.
Then the west sitting room.
Then the long gallery of portraits.
His footsteps echoed softly against the floor.
He turned another corner.
Then another.
And eventually, without really deciding to, he found himself standing at the beginning of the east hallway.
Alex stopped.
He stared down the corridor.
It was noticeably different from the rest of the house.
The lights were dimmer.
There were fewer paintings.
The carpets looked older.
There was a strange stillness in the air.
He remembered Delphine’s words.
Closed to staff and guests.
Alex almost turned around.
Instead, he took one step forward.
Then another.
When he reached the door, he stopped again.
It wasn’t locked.
Alex stared at it.
According to Delphine, it should have been.
There was a keypad beside the frame.
The small screen was dark.
But the door itself stood open a few inches.
Alex looked around.
No one was there.
He checked his phone.
No messages.
No footsteps.
Nothing.
Someone had been inside.
Or at least, someone had opened it recently.
Alex stood there for several seconds.
He knew what he’d been told.
He also knew the door was open.
Curiosity won again.
He pushed it gently.
The hinges made a faint sound.
The room beyond was small.
Much smaller than he expected.
A single window let in a little afternoon light.
Dust floated through the beam.
Alex took one step inside.
Then stopped.
It was a nursery.
An old one.
The first thing he noticed was the wallpaper.
It had faded to a pale version of the blue it must have once been.
Small clouds and stars were painted across it.
A crib stood against the far wall.
Untouched.
Alex stared at it.
The mattress was still inside.
There were no toys.
No clothes.
No signs that anyone had used the room in years.
Above the crib hung a mobile made of small painted stars.
It wasn’t moving.
A rocking chair sat beside the window with a folded blanket over the arm.
There was a small wooden dresser near the wall.
A child’s picture book rested on top of it.
Alex couldn’t explain why, but the room made his chest feel tight.
He took another step.
The floor creaked.
He froze.
Nothing happened.
He looked toward the window.
The curtains were slightly open.
Outside, the trees moved gently in the wind.
Everything was ordinary.
That somehow made the room feel stranger.
It didn’t look abandoned.
It looked preserved.
As though someone had deliberately kept it exactly as it had been.
Alex looked at the crib again.
He wondered who had slept there.
A child?
Whose child?
He remembered the family history he’d read about.
Julian had been married.
There had been children.
But the documents had been vague.
The family seemed to have more secrets than answers.
Alex moved toward the dresser.
He noticed a small framed photograph sitting beside the book.
He didn’t pick it up.
He wasn’t sure he had the right.
Instead, he leaned closer.
The photograph showed a younger Julian.
He looked different.
Less severe.
He was standing beside a woman.
She was smiling.
Between them stood a little boy.
Alex couldn’t make out the child’s face clearly from where he stood.
Something about the picture unsettled him.
He stepped back.
Then he heard footsteps.
“Alex.”
The voice behind him made him turn too quickly.
Elena stood in the hallway.
She was still wearing her coat.
Her hair was slightly windblown, as though she’d come straight from outside.
But none of that was what caught Alex’s attention.
Her face had gone pale.
All the composure he’d become used to was gone.
She looked at the open door.
Then at Alex.
Then back at the room.
“I’m sorry,” Alex said immediately.
“The door was open. I wasn’t trying to…”
“You need to close that door.”
Her voice was quiet.
Alex stopped.
He had never heard her sound like that.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I was just curious.”
“Please.”
She looked at the room again.
“Just close it. Now.”
There was something in her voice he’d never heard before.
Something closer to fear.
Alex slowly stepped backward.
He didn’t understand what was happening.
Elena had handled everything so far.
The press.
The engagement.
The family.
The security.
The sudden changes to his life.
Nothing had seemed to shake her.
But this room had.
Alex reached for the door.
Before closing it, he glanced inside one last time.
The crib.
The rocking chair.
The little photograph.
The stars hanging motionless above the crib.
Then he pulled the door shut.
The latch clicked into place.
The sound seemed far too loud in the empty hallway.
Alex turned to Elena.
She was still staring at the door.
“Whose room is that?”
She didn’t answer.
Alex waited.
“Elena?”
She finally looked at him.
For a moment, he thought she might tell him.
Instead, her expression closed.
“That room isn’t mine to explain.”
Alex frowned.
“But it’s in my house.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not supposed to go inside?”
“Not without permission.”
“From Reyes?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
Elena looked down the hallway.
“Alex, please.”
He stopped.
There was something fragile beneath her words.
Something she was trying very hard to keep hidden.
“Please don’t ask me again.”
Alex studied her.
“Not ever?”
She hesitated.
“Not yet.”
The words hung between them.
Not yet.
Not no.
Alex noticed the difference.
He wanted to ask what happened.
Who the child was.
Why the room had been preserved.
Why Elena had reacted as if he’d opened something much more dangerous than an old bedroom.
But he could see that she wasn’t going to answer.
Not now.
Elena turned.
Then she walked away.
Alex stayed where he was.
He watched her disappear down the hallway.
Her footsteps slowly faded.
The house became quiet again.
Alex looked at the closed door.
A minute ago, it had been nothing more than another door in an enormous house.
Now it felt like a boundary.
A warning.
And possibly the first real clue that the life Julian had left him was built around secrets far older than Alex.
He reached toward the door.
Then stopped himself.
Whatever was inside could wait.
For now.
Alex turned away.
But as he walked back toward the main part of the house, he couldn’t stop thinking about Elena’s face.
She hadn’t looked angry.
She hadn’t looked annoyed.
She had looked afraid.
And somehow, that was worse than no answer at all.
