Chapter 3 - The Man in Room 417

Emilia’s father was awake when they reached the hospital.

Thomas Alvarez looked exhausted.

But when he saw his daughter, he smiled.

—Married woman.

Emilia immediately started crying.

—Dad.

She hugged him gently.

Thomas looked past her.

Daniel stood near the door.

Scarred face.

Black coat.

Two security men in the hallway.

Thomas’s smile disappeared.

—Mr. Beaumont.

Daniel nodded.

—Mr. Alvarez.

Something passed between them.

Recognition.

Not the kind expected between an employee and his billionaire employer.

Emilia noticed.

—You know each other.

Neither answered.

—Dad?

Thomas looked away.

Emilia’s stomach tightened.

—What is happening?

Daniel closed the hospital door.

Thomas exhaled.

—I’m sorry, sweetheart.

—For what?

Her father looked older than he had that morning.

—I didn’t tell you everything about my work.

Emilia sat.

Thomas had not merely repaired equipment in Beaumont warehouses.

For nineteen years he had worked in inventory compliance.

His official job title had been deliberately changed six years earlier after he requested a lower-profile role.

—Why?

Thomas glanced at Daniel.

—Because I knew his father.

Emilia looked between them.

Daniel seemed equally surprised.

—You knew Jonathan Beaumont?

Thomas nodded.

—He trusted me.

Years ago, Thomas had helped trace suspicious shipments being moved through Beaumont subsidiaries.

Medical equipment listed as destroyed was being resold.

Controlled materials were disappearing.

Invoices were falsified.

The trail led toward Adrian Beaumont.

—Why didn’t you tell the police?

Thomas laughed sadly.

—We did.

One investigator disappeared.

Another suddenly closed the case.

Jonathan Beaumont realized someone inside law enforcement was helping Adrian.

So they created copies of the evidence.

—Where are they?

Thomas looked at Emilia.

Her blood went cold.

—No.

Her father reached toward her.

—Emilia—

—No.

—Listen.

—You put something with me?

—Not knowingly.

Daniel stepped closer.

“What exactly did you do?”

Thomas explained that eighteen years earlier, when Emilia was still a child, he had hidden a small encrypted storage device among family belongings.

He later moved it several times.

After his wife became ill, he forgot about it.

Then, three weeks ago, he discovered a reference suggesting Adrian was still alive.

—That is why I entered the archive.

Daniel’s eyes sharpened.

—What did you find?

Thomas lowered his voice.

“A payment authorized four months ago.”

—By whom?

Thomas looked directly at Daniel.

—Adrian Beaumont.

Silence.

Daniel’s face revealed nothing.

But Emilia saw his hand close into a fist.

—He’s alive.

—Yes.

—Where?

—I don’t know.

Thomas began coughing.

Emilia gave him water.

When he recovered, Daniel asked:

—What does this have to do with Emilia?

Thomas closed his eyes.

“I think I know where I hid the original key.”

Emilia felt dread before he finished.

Thomas looked at his daughter.

—Your mother’s music box.

Emilia froze.

She still had it.

A small wooden box with painted roses.

The last thing her mother had given her before dying.

It was inside her apartment.

Daniel immediately called security.

No answer.

He tried again.

Then another number.

His expression changed.

—What?

Emilia stood.

Daniel looked at her.

“The security officer I placed outside your apartment isn’t responding.”

Her blood went cold.

They left the hospital with two guards.

Twenty minutes later they reached Emilia’s building.

Police vehicles blocked the street.

The apartment door had been forced open.

Inside, drawers were overturned.

Furniture ripped apart.

The music box was gone.

Emilia stood in the destroyed bedroom.

Daniel remained behind her.

—They have it.

She turned.

—Adrian?

—Possibly.

Her phone rang.

Unknown number.

Daniel immediately signaled her not to answer.

The phone stopped.

Then a message arrived.

A photograph.

The missing music box sat on a black table.

Beside it was a handwritten note.

Congratulations on the wedding, little brother.

Daniel went completely still.

Another message appeared.

Your wife looks much prettier when she isn’t crying.

Emilia’s skin turned cold.

Attached was a photograph taken only minutes earlier.

Outside the hospital.

Daniel and Emilia getting into the car.

Someone had been watching them.

Daniel stared at the image.

Then at Emilia.

—We’re not going back to the mansion.

—Why?

His voice dropped.

—Because Adrian knows where I live.

She swallowed.

—Where are we going?

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Daniel took out his phone.

“To the one house even my brother believes burned down twelve years ago.”