Chapter 4 The Forbidden Room

• The Blackwood mansion was a labyrinth of corridors and closed doors, each one whispering secrets Elena had not yet been allowed to touch.The mansion was too vast like a palace built not for comfort but to remind its inhabitants of how small they were. Elena had spent the first few days wandering its endless corridors, searching for some corner that could feel like her own. She found none.
• Everywhere she went, the house whispered with secrets. Doors locked tight. Corridors that led nowhere. Rooms stripped bare, as if someone had erased entire lives from their walls.
• But one door drew her more than the rest.
• It was at the end of the east wing, tall and black with an iron handle that seemed colder than all the others. The maids never went near it. Whenever Elena passed, she caught them lowering their voices, as though the very wood of the door could hear.
• At breakfast that morning, she dared to ask Damian.
• “What’s behind the east wing door?”
• His knife paused against his plate. For the first time since their wedding, she saw something flicker in his expression, nothing like indifference or arrogance, but warning.
• “You will not ask me that again,” he said coldly.
• Elena swallowed, lowering her gaze. But her mind refused to let it go.
• At dinner, Damian had been quiet, his attention fixed on his phone while she picked at her food. When he finally stood, his suit jacket slung effortlessly over his shoulder, his parting words were cool and sharp.
• “I’ll be gone for an hour. Stay out of trouble.”
• The slam of the heavy oak door echoed long after he left. Elena sat at the long dining table, her reflection staring back at her from polished silver cutlery.
• “Stay out of trouble.”
• It was the same warning he gave her every day.
• But her heart beat differently tonight.
• ***
• She wandered the hallways, trailing her fingers across the cool wallpaper and gilded picture frames. Every turn reminded her she was a stranger here and a guest in her own marriage. The silence pressed in like a suffocating blanket.
• And then she saw it.
• The door at the end of the east corridor.
• It was unlike the others. Heavy, darker, its brass handle scratched as though many hands had once fought to open it. She had noticed it before—always locked, always avoided by Damian.
• The forbidden room.
• Curiosity burned inside her, a restless itch. What secrets did he keep behind this door? Why did even the servants hesitate when passing it?
• Elena hesitated only a moment before reaching out. The handle was cold beneath her palm. She pressed gently, expecting resistance.
• To her shock, it opened with a slow, heavy creak.
• The air inside was different. Stale, tinged with dust and the faint smell of smoke. Curtains remained drawn, keeping the room cloaked in shadows.
• Her heart pounded as she stepped inside.
• The room was cluttered, filled with relics untouched for years. A desk stacked with old files. Shelves of leather-bound journals. A broken lamp in the corner.
• But what froze her in place were the photographs.
• Dozens of them, some framed, others torn. Her father’s face appeared again and again,standing beside a graceful woman with kind eyes. Damian’s mother.
• Elena’s knees went weak. Her father… with Damian’s mother? Why would he have photographs with her? And why were they torn, shredded, as though someone wanted to erase the memories but could not bring themselves to burn them?
• Her breath hitched as she reached for one photo, her father’s arm around the elegant woman. They were smiling, intimate in a way that unsettled her.
• On the desk lay medical files. Elena’s hands shook as she flipped them open. Reports of sudden illness. Strange treatments. A doctor’s note: Patient exhibits rapid decline. Cause:uncertain.
• And then,she found the diary fragment.
• The handwriting was delicate, feminine.
• “I know he watches me. I know he wants me gone. If anything happens, it will not be an accident.”
• The ink trailed off, smudged as though written in haste.
• Elena’s blood ran cold. Damian’s mother’s death… had it not been natural?
• Her father’s presence in these files, these photographs,what role had he played?
• Her mind spun with questions, fear clawing at her throat. She dropped the papers back onto the desk and turned toward the door—
• And froze.
• Heavy footsteps approaching very fast.
• Her pulse thundered as she looked wildly around the room. But it was too late. The door slammed open with violent force.
• Damian.
• He filled the doorway, tall and furious, his presence sucking all the air from the room. His eyes, usually cold, now blazed with raw, uncontained fire.
• “Elena.”
• Her name on his lips was no longer cool,it was lethal.
• She stumbled back, clutching the edge of the desk. “I…I didn’t mean to…”
• “Didn’t mean to?” His voice cracked like a whip, sharp enough to make her flinch. “You disobeyed me.”
• He stepped inside, each stride deliberate like a predator. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them both in.
• Her back hit the wall as he closed the distance, towering over her. His hand slammed against the wall beside her head, the impact rattling the frames hanging there.
• “You think you can wander into places I’ve forbidden?” His breath was hot against her cheek. “Do you even understand what you’ve done?”
• Her chest heaved, words tumbling out in a rush. “I just wanted answers! My father…hisss… photographs are here. Damian, why? Who was he to your mother?”
• The moment she spoke, his jaw clenched, fury twisting his features. His other hand gripped her wrist, pinning her in place.
• “You have no right to ask me that.” His voice was low, dangerous. “This room is not yours to enter. These memories are not yours to touch.”
• Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to look away. “Then tell me the truth. Was your mother’s death… was it really an accident?”
• His silence was deafening. His eyes darkened, storming with something she could not name:pain, rage, grief. His fingers tightened on her wrist until she winced.
• “You don’t know what you’re speaking of,” he growled.
• “I deserve to know!” she cried, her voice breaking. “If my father is connected,if he had something to do with it,don’t I deserve to understand why you hate me so much?”
• For a heartbeat, his mask cracked. Something vulnerable flickered in his gaze. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by raw fury.
• He pressed closer, his hand sliding from her wrist to grip her chin, forcing her to meet his blazing eyes.
• “If you value your life, Elena…” His voice dropped, rough and dangerous, vibrating against her skin.
• “…never step into this room again.”