Chapter 20: The Note Under the Door

Sleep never came.

I remained awake beside the guest room window until dawn painted the gardens silver.

Nathaniel's recording replayed endlessly inside my head.

"Never trust the first story."

Three years ago, everyone accepted one story.

Nathaniel had driven too fast.

The brakes had failed.

The crash had been an accident.

Now every version of that night felt carefully manufactured.

I locked the Hawthorne Project folder back inside the wardrobe before leaving the room.

The memory card remained hidden inside my jewelry toolkit.

Nobody would think to search there.

Not even Damien.

The house looked ordinary during breakfast.

Servants moved quietly through the dining room.

Fresh flowers decorated the table.

Newspapers lay beside Damien's untouched coffee.

He sat at the far end reading financial reports.

Neither of us spoke.

Eleanor broke the silence first.

"The gala seating chart has changed again," she complained.

"Three sponsors confirmed overnight."

Damien nodded absentmindedly.

His attention never left the documents in front of him.

Every few seconds his eyes drifted toward me.

Not openly.

Carefully.

As though measuring something.

Colette entered carrying another tray.

"Good morning, Mr. Ashford."

She placed his coffee beside him before looking at me.

"Madam."

Her smile never reached her eyes.

Neither did mine.

"Rose," I said.

"Please bring my tea upstairs after breakfast."

"Of course, Madam."

Colette's expression tightened for the briefest moment.

She expected me to stay downstairs.

Instead, I finished eating and returned directly to the guest room.

The hallway outside remained empty.

I closed the door behind me.

Then I stopped.

Something white rested on the carpet.

Folded once.

Halfway beneath the door.

Someone had pushed it inside while I was downstairs.

I picked it up carefully.

No envelope.

No name.

Only one sentence written with black ink.

"Stop looking into Nathaniel's death before someone finishes what they started."

I read it twice.

The handwriting wasn't familiar.

Each letter had been printed instead of written naturally.

Someone wanted to disguise their penmanship.

I turned the paper over.

Blank.

No watermark.

Cheap office stationery.

A deliberate choice.

A knock interrupted my thoughts.

"Madam?"

Rose.

I folded the note before opening the door.

"Your tea."

She entered quietly.

The moment she saw my face, she frowned.

"Has something happened?"

"Did anyone come upstairs?"

She shook her head.

"Not while I was watching."

"But Colette disappeared for several minutes after breakfast."

"Did anyone see where she went?"

"No."

"The security guard near the east staircase also left his post."

Interesting.

Far too convenient.

"Rose..."

I handed her the folded paper.

"Don't touch the writing."

She held only the corner.

Her eyes widened.

"Someone left this here?"

"Under my door."

"Should we tell Mr. Ashford?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know whether the warning came from his enemy... or someone inside this house."

Rose slowly nodded.

"I'll keep watch."

"No."

"Pretend you never saw it."

"That will keep you safer."

She reluctantly agreed before leaving.

The room became silent again.

I opened my laptop.

Instead of replaying Nathaniel's recording, I enlarged a photograph of the anonymous note.

The printer ink appeared uneven.

One letter stood out.

The capital 'S' carried a tiny break near its center.

A damaged printer head.

Not handwriting.

Printed text.

That meant whoever sent it hadn't written anything.

They had typed it first.

Which also meant a printer existed somewhere inside—or connected to—this house.

My phone vibrated.

Victor Hayes.

"You sound busy," he said.

"Someone left me a warning."

His silence lasted two seconds.

"Describe it."

I did.

"Don't throw it away," Victor replied.

"Fingerprints?"

"Perhaps."

"But that's not what interests me."

"Then what?"

"Threats usually arrive after someone gets frightened."

"You've learned something they didn't expect."

"The recording."

"Exactly."

"They're reacting."

"Which means we're finally moving in the right direction."

"Or walking into a trap."

"Both can be true."

"Can you trace the missing page from Hawthorne Project?"

"I'm trying."

"The torn edge suggests it wasn't removed recently."

"Maybe Nathaniel separated it himself."

"Why?"

"Because whatever appeared on that page was important enough to hide separately."

The conversation ended.

I placed the note inside a transparent document sleeve.

Evidence.

Not fear.

A few minutes later, raised voices echoed from downstairs.

I stepped into the hallway.

Damien stood near the study entrance.

Colette faced him with lowered eyes.

"You searched her room?" Damien asked coldly.

"I... I was only cleaning, sir."

"Don't lie to me."

"Nothing was disturbed."

"Then explain why Vivian's wardrobe was open."

Colette hesitated.

"I thought Madam requested fresh linens."

"You thought wrong."

"If you ever enter her room without permission again... you'll leave this house permanently."

For a brief second, Colette looked genuinely frightened.

She apologized repeatedly before hurrying away.

Damien rubbed his forehead.

He hadn't noticed me standing upstairs.

"Enjoying the performance?" he asked without looking up.

"I wasn't invited."

He finally lifted his eyes.

"Did she touch anything?"

A simple question.

Too simple.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because some things in this house shouldn't disappear."

"Like my medical files?"

His expression hardened.

"I already dealt with that."

"Did you?"

"Colette admitted she copied them."

"She said she wanted to protect me."

"Do you believe her?"

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he asked quietly,

"Do you?"

Neither of us spoke.

The silence between us felt different now.

Less hostile.

More uncertain.

As though both of us had started questioning the stories we'd believed.

I returned to my room without another word.

Only after locking the door did I unfold the anonymous note again.

This time I noticed something I had missed before.

In the lower-right corner was a tiny embossed symbol.

Almost invisible unless the paper caught the light.

A raven.

The exact same bird printed on every document belonging to Raven Capital.