Chapter 3: The Woman in the Basement
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
I stared at the tablet.
My name.
My employee number.
My photograph.
And a record showing that I had entered a restricted part of Ashford Manor at 2:13 a.m.
The previous night, I had been home with my daughter.
I knew that.
I had been helping Lily with a school project about the solar system while eating leftover pasta.
There was no possibility I had been inside the estate.
"That's not my entry," I said.
Robert looked at the screen again.
"The card number matches your employee identification.""
"Then someone copied it.""
Margaret stood.
"Robert, can you confirm the access point?""
"The basement archive entrance.""
"Was there camera coverage?""
"Yes, but the recording was deleted.""
Julian's expression darkened.
"Deleted?""
"At 2:19 a.m. The system records an administrator override.""
"Who has administrator access?""
Robert hesitated.
"Me. Mr. Ashford.
Mrs. Ashford. And the external security contractor.""
Julian leaned back.
"Get me the contractor's name.""
"I already checked. Their system shows no authorized remote access.""
Margaret folded her arms.
"Which means someone inside the house used the override.""
I looked between them.
"Why would someone use my card?""
Nobody answered.
Then I remembered something.
"Wait.""
Julian turned toward me.
"Clara?""
"Two days ago, someone asked me to leave my staff identification card at the housekeeping desk.""
"Who?""
"Mrs. Ashford's assistant. A woman named Natalie.""
Robert frowned.
"Did you leave it?""
"For about ten minutes. She said the photograph wasn't clear enough for the gala staff list.""
Margaret exchanged a glance with Julian.
"That could explain the copied card number.""
"Could," Julian said.
I leaned forward.
"Why would someone want me to look like I entered the basement?""
Julian looked at the tablet.
"Because you're becoming a witness.""
The words made my stomach tighten.
I thought about Lily in the garden.
About our small apartment.
About how easy it would be for someone like Victoria Ashford to make my life difficult.
"I need to go," I said.
Margaret looked surprised.
"Clara—"
"I have a daughter. I can't be involved in whatever this is.""
Julian nodded slowly.
"I understand.""
I stood.
But before I reached the door, he said something that made me stop.
"Clara, if someone used your identity to enter that room, they may have left something there that implicates you.""
I turned.
"What?""
"Something that could be used to make you look responsible for whatever happened to Eleanor.""
I felt my throat tighten.
"Why would they do that?""
Margaret answered.
"Because if the investigation turns toward you, the real person who entered the archive may have time to destroy whatever remains.""
I looked at Julian.
For the first time, I understood that he wasn't simply asking for help.
He was warning me.
Someone had already decided I was useful.
And possibly disposable.
Robert returned with a second tablet.
"Sir, I've got something.""
Julian motioned for him to continue.
"The basement alarm was triggered twice last night. First at 2:13 a.m., then again at 2:17. But the second entry was made using a physical key.""
"The archive key?"" Margaret asked.
Robert nodded.
"Possibly.""
I looked at the silver key.
"Does that mean whoever entered the room left it where I found it?""
"Possibly," Robert repeated.
Julian stood.
"I want to see the archive.""
Margaret immediately shook her head.
"Absolutely not.""
"Margaret.""
"You're still recovering. And if someone has been inside that room, we don't know what they've left behind.""
"I've spent eight months being told where I can and cannot go.""
"And you spent three months secretly learning to walk because you didn't trust your own household," she replied.
"I would prefer not to watch you take unnecessary risks now.""
Julian stared at her.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
"Still difficult, Margaret.""
"Still alive, Julian.""
He turned to me.
"Clara, you don't have to come.""
I should have refused.
I should have collected Lily and gone home.
But the image of my employee card on that tablet wouldn't leave me alone.
Someone had used my name.
Someone had entered a locked room.
And someone had placed the key where I would find it.
"I'll come," I said.
Margaret looked at me.
"Are you certain?""
"No. But I want to know why someone is using my identity.""
Julian nodded.
"Then let's find out.""
The basement was colder than the rest of the house.
A narrow staircase descended behind the library's western wall. Robert unlocked the security door and switched on the lights.
The corridor smelled of dust and old paper.
At the far end stood a heavy wooden door.
A brass plaque read:
*ASHFORD FAMILY ARCHIVE.*
Julian stopped in front of it.
For a moment, he didn't move.
"What's wrong?"" I asked.
He looked at the plaque.
"Eleanor used to spend hours in here.""
"Your first wife?""
He nodded.
"She loved old documents. Family photographs. Letters. Things people usually throw away.""
"She worked here?""
"No. But she was interested in the history of the family.""
Margaret approached the door.
"Julian, we should let Robert check the room first.""
Robert unlocked it.
The door opened with a long creak.
Inside were shelves of leather-bound books, metal filing cabinets, and several old desks.
A single lamp had been left burning.
On the floor lay a broken picture frame.
Julian stopped.
He walked toward it carefully.
I followed his gaze.
The photograph showed a woman with dark hair and a warm smile standing beside Julian.
She wore a cream-colored dress.
Her hand rested on his shoulder.
"Eleanor," he whispered.
The glass had shattered, but the photograph remained intact.
I crouched to pick it up.
"Don't," Robert warned.
He photographed the frame before carefully lifting it.
Margaret moved toward the desk.
"Someone has been searching through these files.""
Several drawers hung open.
Paper lay scattered across the floor.
A metal cabinet had been forced.
Julian examined the shelves.
"Where are the medical records?""
Margaret pointed toward a locked cabinet at the rear.
Robert opened it using a second key.
Inside were several folders.
He removed the first.
"Medical correspondence. Eight months ago.""
The second contained hospital invoices.
The third was labeled with Julian's name.
Margaret opened it.
Her expression changed almost immediately.
"What is it?"" Julian asked.
She turned a page.
"These are not the original records.""
"What do you mean?""
"The dates have been altered.""
She flipped through several pages.
"Some of these documents claim you were completely unable to move your legs two days after the accident. But the hospital's original rehabilitation notes say you demonstrated partial movement.""
Julian stared at the papers.
"I knew it.""
Margaret looked at him.
"You suspected?""
"Victor told me something different during my first month of rehabilitation. He said the damage was less severe than the doctors were claiming.""
"Why didn't you challenge it?""
Julian's expression hardened.
"Because Victoria had already convinced the board that I was mentally unstable after the accident. Every time I questioned something, she told people the medication was affecting my judgment.""
I looked at the documents.
There were signatures at the bottom of several pages.
One belonged to a doctor.
Another belonged to Victoria.
But a third signature caught my attention.
I leaned closer.
"Who is this?""
Margaret followed my finger.
Her face went pale.
"That's Eleanor's signature.""
Julian turned sharply.
"That's impossible.""
"Why?""
"Because she was dead when this document was supposedly signed.""
Margaret checked the date.
Then checked it again.
The document had been signed eleven days after Eleanor's funeral.
I felt cold.
"Someone forged her signature.""
Margaret nodded.
"Or someone wanted us to believe she was dead.""
Julian looked at the document as though the paper itself had struck him.
"No.""
He took it from Margaret.
His fingers trembled.
"Eleanor was buried. I attended the funeral.""
Robert moved toward him.
"Sir, sit down.""
Julian ignored him.
He looked at the signature.
Then at the photograph on the floor.
"She couldn't have—"
A noise came from behind the shelves.
A small metallic click.
Robert immediately turned.
"Who's there?""
Nobody answered.
He moved toward the rear corridor.
"Security! Stay where you are!""
A door slammed.
Robert ran.
Margaret hurried after him.
Julian reached for the edge of the desk.
I moved beside him.
"Are you all right?""
He shook his head.
"There's someone else in the house.""
I looked toward the corridor.
Then I noticed something beneath the desk.
A small envelope.
It was hidden behind one of the drawers.
I pulled it out.
My name was written across the front.
*CLARA BENNETT.*
My fingers went numb.
Julian saw it.
"Don't open it.""
But I had already turned it over.
There was no seal.
Inside was a photograph.
A photograph of a little girl sitting on a swing in a public playground.
My daughter.
Lily.
I stopped breathing.
The photograph had been taken three days earlier.
I recognized the pink jacket she was wearing.
The yellow backpack beside her.
The woman standing near the gate.
Our babysitter.
My hand began to shake.
"How did they get this?""
Julian took the photograph carefully.
His expression changed as he studied it.
On the back, someone had written a message in red ink.
*SHE SAVED YOU ONCE. DON'T MAKE HER PAY FOR IT.*
I stumbled backward.
"What does that mean?""
Julian looked at me.
For the first time, he seemed afraid.
Not for himself.
For me.
Then Robert returned.
His face was pale.
"We have a problem.""
Margaret turned.
"Did you catch them?""
"No.""
"Who was it?""
Robert swallowed.
"The person who entered the archive.""
He held up a security photograph.
It showed a woman standing outside the basement door.
Her face was partially obscured by a scarf.
But I recognized the coat.
I recognized the posture.
And I recognized the silver bracelet on her wrist.
Victoria Ashford.
Julian stared at the image.
"Where is she now?""
Robert lowered the tablet.
"She's gone, sir.""
"Gone where?""
"Her car left the estate twenty minutes ago.""
Margaret frowned.
"Did anyone authorize her departure?""
"No.""
Julian's expression hardened.
"Find her.""
Robert nodded.
But before he could leave, the tablet in his hand began vibrating.
A new message had arrived from the estate's internal security system.
Robert opened it.
Then he went completely still.
"Sir.""
Julian looked up.
"What?""
Robert turned the screen toward him.
The message contained a single sentence.
*THE WOMAN YOU BURIED IS BACK.*
Beneath it was a photograph.
A woman standing outside the estate's main gates.
Dark hair.
Cream-colored coat.
The same warm smile from the broken picture frame.
Eleanor Ashford.
Julian's first wife.
May you like
The woman who had supposedly died fourteen months earlier.
And she was looking directly into the camera.
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