Chapter 2
Richard sent every guest home.
No explanations.
No apologies.
Within fifteen minutes, the birthday lounge was empty except for family, bodyguards and the physician treating Lily.
Richard remained beside his granddaughter until feeling returned to her feet.
She cried when warmth began stinging her skin.
Richard held her hand.
Mark watched from across the room.
His own father never held his hand like that.
The thought passed through his face before he could hide it.
Richard noticed.
He said nothing.
When Lily was finally comfortable, Richard asked:
“Where is Daddy’s downstairs room?”
Mark stepped forward immediately.
“She doesn't know what she’s talking about.”
Richard looked at him.
Mark stopped.
Lily pointed vaguely toward the mountain side of the estate.
“Under the wine room.”
Richard knew the Bellacorte property Mark lived in.
He had purchased it.
There was no cellar beneath the wine room on the official plans.
Richard turned toward his security chief.
“Get the architectural records.”
Mark laughed nervously.
“Seriously?”
Richard looked at him.
The laugh died.
“Dad, you came here, saw one moment, and now you’re treating me like an enemy.”
“One moment?”
Richard’s eyes moved toward Lily’s bare feet.
Mark followed his gaze.
His mouth closed.
Claudia crossed her arms.
“You're letting a spoiled child manipulate you.”
Richard looked at her.
Her posture remained proud.
Her eyes did not.
They kept returning to the drawing.
Richard noticed.
“What were you afraid she drew?”
Claudia’s nostrils flared.
“Nothing.”
“Then stop looking at it.”
She forced her gaze away.
Too late.
The property records arrived.
There was no registered basement room.
But an old contractor file showed excavation work three years earlier.
Privately billed.
Paid personally by Mark.
Richard looked at the contractor name.
Falcone Masonry.
He knew the owner.
A company routinely used to build secure rooms.
Mark’s confidence began thinning.
Richard folded Lily’s picture.
“Take me there.”
“No.”
The word came instantly.
Father and son stared at one another.
Richard’s voice dropped.
“You just told me there was nothing.”
“There isn’t.”
“Then opening the door costs you nothing.”
Mark’s hand tightened.
“It's my house.”
Richard took one slow breath.
Then another.
His tone remained quiet.
“Your daughter was barefoot in snow outside my birthday while you ate cake behind glass.”
He stepped closer.
“Do not talk to me about your house tonight.”
Mark’s eyes hardened.
For a second, the eight-year-old resentment inside a thirty-eight-year-old man surfaced.
“You always do this.”
Richard stopped.
“Do what?”
“Walk in and make everything yours.”
There it was.
Not fear.
Resentment.
Richard watched it.
Then the security chief returned.
“We found an access door.”
Mark’s face changed.
“Where?”
“Behind the wine shelving.”
May you like
Richard turned toward him.
Mark had just revealed he knew exactly what door they meant.
