Chapter 2 - The Architecture of Deceit
Victoria refused to move, her jaw clenched so tightly a muscle twitched in her cheek. "There is no room 317. You're both chasing ghosts."
"Then you won't mind if we look," Mark said, stepping past her with a determined stride. He looked at Elena. "Where did you hear her mention the number?"
"The East Wing corridor, near the old library archive," Elena replied immediately, falling into step beside him.
Victoria scrambled after them, her heels clicking frantically against the hardwood. "You have no right! This is an invasion of privacy! Mark, stop this madness!"
They ignored her protests, marching straight down the East Wing until they reached the dead end where a row of mahogany bookshelves lined the wall. Elena held up the small silver key, its tiny engraved number '317' catching the dim light of the wall sconce. She ran her fingers along the ornate woodwork of the bookshelf, pressing against the carved molding.
With a faint, mechanical click, a hidden latch gave way. The entire heavy bookshelf swung inward on heavy brass hinges, revealing a dark, narrow corridor paneled in aged dark wood. A cold draft billowed out from the hidden space, carrying the faint scent of old paper and dust.
May you like
Mark stared into the dark opening, disbelief turning into cold fury. "My father's private blueprint logs never showed an extension here."
"Because it was built off the original floor plans before the 1975 renovation," Elena said quietly, stepping forward with her phone flashlight illuminated. "After you, Sir."
