Chapter 2: The Knocking Behind the Wall
Chapter 2: The Knocking Behind the Wall
The knocking came again.
Three slow thuds.
Then silence.
Every head in the ballroom turned toward the hidden doorway.
No one spoke.
No one dared to.
The chairman's face drained of color.
His son grabbed my hand so tightly I thought my fingers would go numb.
"I told you."
His voice cracked.
"There are more."
The words landed harder than the knocking itself.
Several guests instinctively stepped backward.
One woman covered her mouth.
Another quietly began crying.
Isabella was the only person who didn't look surprised.
She looked trapped.
The chairman noticed.
"You knew."
It wasn't a question.
She shook her head immediately.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
The knocking sounded again.
This time louder.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The sound echoed through the marble walls.
Security officers exchanged uneasy glances.
One of them stepped closer to the hidden room.
"Sir..."
"I think someone's in there."
The chairman never looked away from Isabella.
"Open it."
She swallowed.
"I don't have the key anymore."
He slowly raised the brass key in his hand.
"I do."
The ballroom became so quiet that even the soft click of the old key entering the lock sounded deafening.
The chairman hesitated.
His fingers tightened around the handle.
Then he pushed.
The heavy wooden door groaned open.
Cold air rushed into the ballroom.
It carried the smell of damp concrete.
Dust.
And something older.
Something forgotten.
Security switched on flashlights.
The narrow hallway stretched farther than anyone expected.
Its walls were unfinished concrete.
Electrical wires hung from the ceiling.
The floor was covered with footprints.
Fresh footprints.
Someone had been walking there recently.
The chairman stared into the darkness.
"Stay behind me."
His voice was firm.
Three security officers moved ahead.
Two remained beside Isabella.
She tried to step away.
One guard blocked her path.
"I need to use the restroom."
"You'll wait."
She forced a laugh.
"This is absurd."
No one answered.
The chairman looked at me.
"You found my son."
I nodded.
"Will you stay with him?"
The little boy refused to let go of my hand.
"I don't want her near me."
His eyes never left Isabella.
The chairman crouched beside him.
"I promise."
"No one is taking you anywhere again."
The child nodded.
But he still refused to release my hand.
Together we followed the security team into the passage.
Each step echoed.
The air grew colder.
The hallway curved left.
Then right.
Whoever designed it had wanted people to become disoriented.
A flashlight beam landed on scratch marks covering one wall.
Long.
Deep.
Desperate.
The chairman stopped walking.
His jaw clenched.
One security officer whispered,
"Those weren't made by tools."
No one wanted to finish the sentence.
Everyone knew.
The scratches had been made by fingernails.
The hallway ended at another steel door.
Unlike the first one, this one had no handle on the inside.
Only on the outside.
The chairman stared at it.
"What kind of room locks from the outside?"
Nobody answered.
The knocking came again.
Only inches away now.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
A weak voice followed.
"Please..."
The chairman's breathing became uneven.
"Who's in there?"
Silence.
Then...
"I don't know."
The answer came from a child.
The chairman closed his eyes for one brief second.
When he opened them, tears were already forming.
He unlocked the door.
It swung inward.
A little girl, no older than eight, shielded her eyes from the flashlight.
She blinked repeatedly.
As though she hadn't seen bright light in days.
She wore an oversized sweater.
Her hair was tangled.
Her cheeks were pale.
She looked at the people standing in front of her without saying a word.
Then she whispered,
"Are you real?"
No one moved.
One of the female guests burst into tears.
The chairman slowly knelt.
"It's okay."
"We're here now."
The little girl didn't run toward him.
She looked terrified of everyone.
Including him.
She shrank into the corner.
A small blanket lay on the floor beside her.
So did empty water bottles.
Half-eaten crackers.
Children's coloring books.
The security captain scanned the room.
"No windows."
"No ventilation."
He looked sick.
"Someone kept her here."
The chairman turned.
"Find out who she is."
One guard immediately radioed for additional officers.
Another photographed everything.
The chairman's son suddenly tugged on my sleeve again.
"I know her."
Everyone looked down at him.
"What's her name?"
He hesitated.
"I don't know."
"But..."
"She cried every night."
The room froze.
The chairman stared at his son.
"What do you mean every night?"
The little boy looked confused.
"I could hear her."
"Through the wall."
Every adult exchanged horrified looks.
There had been two children.
Separated.
Close enough to hear each other.
Neither able to escape.
The security captain walked deeper into the room.
His flashlight stopped on another object.
He bent down slowly.
"Sir..."
The chairman approached.
"What is it?"
The captain lifted a small leather notebook from beneath the blanket.
Its cover was worn.
A child's handwriting filled the first page.
"My Secret Friends."
The chairman carefully opened it.
Inside were dozens of drawings.
The first showed two children sitting on opposite sides of a wall.
The second showed a woman holding a key.
Her face had been drawn with dark black circles instead of eyes.
The third drawing stopped everyone cold.
A man in an expensive suit stood smiling beside the woman.
Above them, written in shaky handwriting, were five heartbreaking words.
Daddy doesn't know I'm here.
The chairman's hands began to tremble.
"I've never seen this."
His voice barely existed.
"I swear to God..."
"I've never seen this."
Nobody doubted him.
Not after seeing his face.
Not after seeing the tears he no longer tried to hide.
A sudden voice echoed from behind them.
"You should stop looking."
Everyone turned.
Isabella stood at the end of the hallway.
A security guard lay unconscious on the floor behind her.
She held a silver handgun with both hands.
Her arms shook.
But the gun was steady.
"No one else has to get hurt."
The chairman slowly stood.
"What have you done, Isabella?"
She smiled through tears.
"You still think this was only my secret."
Then she looked directly at him.
"No..."
"It belongs to someone you trust even more."
The chairman frowned.
Before he could ask what she meant...
A familiar voice echoed from the ballroom upstairs.
A man's voice.
Calm.
Confident.
And terrifyingly familiar.
"She's right."
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The chairman's expression changed instantly.
Because he recognized that voice.
