Chapter 5 - Relics of Rebecca
The beam of light didn't reveal a body, but what it did illuminate was infinitely more terrifying.
The underground room had been converted into a soundproofed, reinforced vault. Bolted into the concrete floor was a single metal cot with heavy leather restraint straps attached to each corner. On a stainless steel table beside the cot sat stacks of spiral notebooks, discarded prescription bottles with scraped-off labels, and a mountain of confiscated personal belongings—purses, driver’s licenses, broken laptops, and rings.
Pinned against the back corkboard wall were dozens of surveillance photographs.
All of them were of a single woman: Rebecca Thorne. Adrian’s former fiancée, who had supposedly "moved to Europe abruptly" four years ago after breaking off their engagement.
Deputy Miller stepped carefully around the room, keeping his hands clear of surfaces. "Call the Crime Scene Investigation unit and the District Attorney's office right now," he barked into his shoulder radio. "We have a secure containment room with evidence of long-term unlawful imprisonment."
Outside the doorway, Eleanor collapsed against the carriage house wall, sliding to her knees in the dirt, sobbing uncontrollably into her trembling palms. Charles simply stood frozen, staring blankly at the ground, knowing his dynasty had just crumbled into dust.
I turned slowly toward Maya. "You knew about this?"
Maya’s eyes were brimming with tears. "Rebecca tried to walk away from him just like you did tonight. She refused to sign their prenuptial agreement that stripped her of her family's inheritance. Adrian snapped. He brought her here. They held her down here for three weeks, pumping her full of sedatives until she signed everything over to Eleanor."
"Where is she now?" I asked, cold horror gripping my chest.
"They forced her onto a one-way flight to an isolated private psychiatric facility in Switzerland under an assumed name," Maya whispered, a tear tracing her cheek. "They paid off the doctors. They told everyone she ran off with a lover. Charles told me if I ever said a word, Julian would lose his trust fund, and my kids would end up in state custody."
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A wave of nausea washed over me. I looked down at the blood dried on my hands.
If I hadn't fought back against that plate tonight—if I hadn't called 911 right in front of twenty witnesses—that cellar cot was where Adrian was going to take me before morning.
