Chapter 3: The Door Upstairs
Diane stood in the middle of my living room as if she had forgotten how to breathe.
Rain hammered the windows behind her.
Nobody moved.
Not Ryan.
Not me.
Not even Lily, who was still holding my hand.
Diane's eyes stayed fixed on the torn letter.
“Give me that,” she said.
I tightened my grip.
“No.””
Her voice sharpened.
“Emily, I said give it to me.””
“And I said no.””
She took a step toward me.
Ryan moved between us.
“Mom.””
Diane looked at him.
“You let her read it?””
“I didn't.””
“Then how does she have it?””
“I don't know.””
Diane's gaze dropped to Lily.
My daughter's fingers tightened around mine.
“Did you give it to her?”” Diane asked.
Lily shook her head.
“Grandpa did.””
Diane's face went white.
For the first time, she looked directly at my six-year-old daughter as though Lily wasn't a child.
She looked at her as though she was evidence.
“Don't say that name,” Diane whispered.
Lily frowned.
“Why?””
Diane didn't answer.
I stepped forward.
“You're going to explain.””
She looked at me.
“Explain what?””
“The letter.””
“There is no letter.””
I held it up.
“This?””
Her eyes flicked toward it.
“That isn't real.””
I almost laughed.
“It is in my hand.””
“You don't know where it came from.””
“Neither do you.””
“That letter could be forged.””
“By whom?””
She didn't answer.
I looked at Ryan.
He was staring at his mother.
“Is that your father's handwriting?””
His lips parted.
No sound came out.
I held the paper toward him.
“Ryan.””
He finally looked at it.
His face collapsed.
“Yes.””
One word.
Barely audible.
Diane turned toward him.
“You're certain?””
Ryan nodded slowly.
“I'd know his handwriting.””
Diane's expression hardened.
“You haven't seen it in years.””
“I grew up seeing it.””
“You could be mistaken.””
“No.””
His voice was different now.
Steadier.
“You're lying.””
The silence that followed was enormous.
Diane's eyes narrowed.
“You should be careful what you accuse your mother of.””
Ryan stepped closer.
“Then tell me why Dad's letter says you killed him.””
I heard the words leave his mouth.
I watched Diane absorb them.
No denial.
No outrage.
Just stillness.
Lily moved closer to my side.
I put an arm around her.
Diane whispered, “You don't know what you're talking about.””
Ryan held her gaze.
“Then explain.””
“Not here.””
“Why not?””
“Because your daughter is here.””
Ryan laughed once.
It was bitter.
“You're worried about her hearing this now?””
Diane looked at Lily.
“She shouldn't be involved.””
I stepped in front of my daughter.
“She became involved when you smashed a bottle against her head.””
Diane's expression hardened.
“It was an accident.””
“No.””
I looked her directly in the eyes.
“You know it wasn't.””
For a second, nobody spoke.
Then Diane reached into her purse.
Ryan grabbed her wrist.
“What are you doing?””
She jerked free.
“Calling my attorney.””
“Why?””
“Because your wife has stolen private property.””
I stared at her.
“Frank's letter and Frank's watch?””
“They don't belong to you.””
“They belong to your dead husband.””
Diane's face changed again.
“You should stop saying he's dead.””
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Ryan froze.
So did I.
Diane realized what she had said.
She backed toward the door.
I whispered, “What did you mean?””
“Nothing.””
“You said, ‘Stop saying he's dead.’”
“I misspoke.””
“You don't make mistakes like that.””
She looked at Ryan.
“Come with me.””
He didn't move.
“Ryan.””
He shook his head.
“No.””
“Your father would want you to trust me.””
Ryan's jaw tightened.
“My father left a letter saying not to trust you.””
Diane's lips trembled.
Then she turned toward the door.
I thought she was leaving.
Instead, she stopped with her hand on the knob.
“You think you've found a mystery.””
She looked back at me.
“You haven't.””
“What do you mean?””
“You've found a grave.””
My stomach tightened.
“What grave?””
She opened the door.
“Ask your husband why the police never investigated the blood.””
Then she walked out into the rain.
The door slammed behind her.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Then I turned to Ryan.
“What blood?””
He didn't answer.
“Ryan.””
He walked away.
I followed him into the kitchen.
“What blood was she talking about?””
He opened a cabinet.
“Ryan.””
He pulled out a glass.
His hand shook.
“Stop.””
I took the glass from him.
“Look at me.””
He did.
“Three years ago, when your father died, what happened?””
He swallowed.
“Dad collapsed.””
“Where?””
“Upstairs.””
“In the blue room?””
“Yes.””
“Was there blood?””
His eyes closed.
“Yes.””
My stomach dropped.
“How much?””
“Enough.””
“Enough for what?””
He opened his eyes.
“Enough that Mom made me clean it.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
“It was on the floor.””
“You cleaned your father's blood?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn't you call the police?””
“We had already called an ambulance.””
“That doesn't answer the question.””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Mom said Dad had hit his head when he fell.””
“And you believed her?””
“I was twenty-nine and my father was dying.””
“You found blood.””
“I found my father on the floor.””
“You were his son.””
“I know.””
His voice cracked.
“I know what I was.””
I took a breath.
“Was he alive?””
Ryan looked at me.
“Yes.””
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
“Your father was alive after he fell?””
“For a few minutes.””
“Did he speak?””
Ryan nodded.
“What did he say?””
“He said my name.””
“And?””
“He told me to leave.””
“Why?””
“I don't know.””
“Ryan.””
He looked down.
“I heard Mom screaming at him before I came upstairs.””
My pulse quickened.
“About what?””
“I don't know.””
“You do.””
He turned away.
“She was accusing him of taking something.””
“What?””
“I don't know.””
“Was it the watch?””
“No.””
“Then what?””
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“What was she looking for?””
“Money.””
“Money?””
“He had an envelope.””
I stared at him.
“What envelope?””
Ryan shook his head.
“I don't know.””
“You said there was an envelope.””
“I saw it in his hand.””
“What happened to it?””
“My mother took it.””
“Where?””
“I don't know.””
“Ryan.””
He looked at me.
“I was trying to save him.””
I heard the pain in his voice.
“What did you do?””
“I called 911.””
“You said you left him.””
“I left the room for maybe thirty seconds.””
His eyes filled.
“When I came back, Mom was standing over him.””
“What was she doing?””
“I don't know.””
“Was he breathing?””
Ryan nodded.
“Barely.””
“And then?””
“Then the paramedics came.””
I stared at him.
“But he was alive.””
“Yes.””
“Then what happened at the hospital?””
“He died.””
“From the fall?””
Ryan hesitated.
“I don't know.””
Something cold moved through me.
“Did anyone perform an autopsy?””
He shook his head.
“No.””
“Why?””
“Mom refused.””
I couldn't believe it.
“She refused an autopsy after her husband died with unexplained head trauma?””
Ryan didn't respond.
“And you let her?””
“I was grieving.””
“So was she.””
“I know.””
“Then why are you only telling me this now?””
His eyes met mine.
“Because Mom made me promise.””
“What promise?””
“That I'd never talk about what happened in that room.””
I whispered, “Why?””
He swallowed.
“She said if I did, she'd destroy all of us.””
I looked toward the living room.
Lily was sitting on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders.
She was watching us.
I lowered my voice.
“What does she have against you?””
“Everything.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“There is something specific.””
He said nothing.
“Ryan.””
His silence answered me.
Then Lily spoke.
“Mommy?””
I turned.
“Yes?””
“Can we go upstairs?””
Ryan stiffened.
“No.””
Lily looked at him.
“But Grandpa told me where it is.””
Ryan went pale.
“Where what is?””
“The other part of the letter.””
I slowly turned toward her.
“What other part?””
She pointed toward the stairs.
“Grandpa said Grandma hid it.””
Ryan walked over.
“Lily, sweetheart, who exactly are you talking about?””
“Grandpa.””
“Where did he tell you to go?””
“The blue room.””
Ryan's face changed.
I saw terror.
Not fear.
Terror.
“No.””
He crossed the room and lifted Lily into his arms.
“Daddy?””
“We aren't going upstairs.””
“Why?””
“Because it's dangerous.””
“But Grandpa said—”
“Your grandpa is not upstairs.””
Lily looked at him strangely.
“He is.””
Ryan went completely still.
I watched him.
Then Lily touched his cheek.
“He told me you were scared.””
Ryan nearly dropped her.
I stepped forward and took Lily from his arms.
“What exactly did Grandpa say to you?””
“He said Daddy would remember.””
“Remember what?””
Lily shrugged.
“The night Grandma hurt him.””
Ryan looked away.
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
He knew.
There was something he had buried.
Something his mother had forced him to bury with his father.
I looked at the staircase.
Then at the locked blue room upstairs.
“I'm going up.””
Ryan stepped in front of me.
“No.””
“Move.””
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because I promised my father.””
I stared at him.
“To protect that room?””
“To protect you.””
“You don't get to decide what I can know.””
“I do if knowing gets you killed.””
The words landed between us.
He seemed to regret them immediately.
I lowered my voice.
“Are you saying my mother-in-law might kill me?””
Ryan didn't answer.
I didn't need him to.
My phone buzzed.
Another unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
The blue room.
The door.
This time it was open.
I stared at it.
The message beneath the picture said:
*You're too late.*
Another message came immediately.
*He knows you're coming.*
I looked at Ryan.
“Who is this?””
He shook his head.
“I don't know.””
“You do.””
“I swear I don't.””
The phone buzzed again.
A video.
I opened it.
The recording showed a dark hallway.
The camera was pointed toward the blue room.
The door was open.
Then a man's voice came through the speaker.
Older.
Weak.
Whispering.
“Ryan…”
Ryan went rigid.
The voice continued.
“Don't trust your mother.””
The video ended.
Nobody moved.
I looked at my husband.
“You know that voice.””
He covered his mouth.
Then he whispered the truth.
“That's Dad.””
My blood ran cold.
“You're sure?””
He nodded.
“I'd know his voice anywhere.””
I played the recording again.
The voice came through clearly.
“Ryan…”
I watched my husband's face.
He began to cry.
Not loud.
Just silent tears.
“He died three years ago.””
“I know.””
“That recording…”
“I know.””
He looked at me.
“There is one person who knows my father's voice well enough to fake it.””
I already knew the answer.
“Your mother.””
He nodded.
“But she wasn't the one who sent that.””
“How do you know?””
“Because Mom doesn't know about that nickname.””
“What nickname?””
Ryan stared at the phone.
“Dad always called me Ryan-boy.””
My stomach tightened.
The video played again.
At the very end, before the screen went black, the voice had said something else.
I hadn't noticed it the first time.
I turned the volume up.
The final whisper came through.
“Ryan-boy…”
Ryan stopped breathing.
I looked at him.
He was staring toward the staircase.
“What?””
He pointed.
I turned.
At the top of the stairs, the blue-room door was open.
Not upstairs in some picture.
Not on my phone.
Here.
In our own house.
A shadow stood inside it.
Tall.
Motionless.
Watching us.
Lily grabbed my dress.
“Mommy.””
I couldn't look away.
The shadow moved.
One step forward.
Ryan whispered, “Stay here.””
He started toward the stairs.
I grabbed his arm.
“No.””
The figure stepped into the hallway.
For one impossible second, lightning flashed outside.
The man's face became visible.
Gray hair.
Pale skin.
Dark suit.
And an old gold watch shining on his wrist.
Ryan made a sound I had never heard from him before.
“Dad?””
The man looked directly at him.
Then he raised one trembling finger to his lips.
May you like
“Shh.””
And behind him, inside the blue room, Diane screamed.
