Chapter 3 - the room that did not exist)
Evan waited until Richard began his speech.
The ballroom lights dimmed.
A spotlight illuminated the stage.
Richard stood beneath the Whitmore Foundation logo while hundreds of guests applauded.
Evan was positioned near the front beside Dr. Marcus Hale.
Perfect.
Visible.
Controlled.
"We are here tonight," Richard began, "because hope is stronger than tragedy."
Applause.
Evan looked toward Marcus.
The doctor was watching Richard.
Evan lowered one hand toward the wheelchair controls.
"Three years ago, I lost my beloved wife, Claire."
More applause.
"That same night, my son lost the use of his legs."
Marcus looked down.
Evan closed his eyes and allowed his body to slump.
Marcus leaned closer.
"Evan?"
Evan did not respond.
Marcus touched his shoulder.
"Evan."
Evan made his eyelids flutter.
"I feel sick."
Marcus frowned.
"From the medication?"
"I think I'm going to throw up."
That was enough.
Marcus immediately moved him away from the cameras.
"What did you eat?"
"Nothing."
"I'm taking you upstairs."
"No."
Marcus stopped.
Evan pointed toward the restroom corridor.
"Bathroom."
Marcus sighed.
"Fine."
They crossed the ballroom.
As soon as they reached the hallway, Evan leaned forward and made a choking sound.
Marcus opened the restroom door.
Evan drove inside.
"I need privacy."
"I'll wait."
"You watch me pee now?"
Marcus's mouth tightened.
"Five minutes."
The door closed.
Evan counted to ten.
Then he turned toward a second door near the sinks.
Most guests assumed it was a maintenance closet.
Evan knew it connected to an old staff corridor.
His mother had shown it to him when he was six.
They had once hidden there during a Christmas party and eaten cookies together.
He opened it.
Nia was waiting.
"You took forever."
"I had to fake being sick."
"You're bad at it."
"You didn't even see it."
"I heard it."
She grabbed the wheelchair and pulled him through the narrow hallway.
"Where are we going?"
"The Midnight Room."
"I told you. There isn't one."
"There was."
Nia stopped at an old wooden panel.
"Your great grandfather built this house in 1924. One of the rooms was painted dark blue with stars on the ceiling. Everyone called it the Midnight Room."
Evan stared at her.
"How do you know so much about my house?"
"My grandmother lived here for nineteen years."
Nia pressed a hidden latch.
The wooden panel opened.
Behind it was darkness.
Evan's wheelchair barely fit.
"Absolutely not."
Nia looked at him.
"Scared?"
"Yes."
She seemed surprised by the answer.
Evan shrugged.
"I'm not stupid."
For the first time Nia smiled.
"Good."
They entered.
A narrow service elevator waited behind the panel.
It looked ancient.
Nia pulled the metal gate closed.
"You trust this thing?"
"No."
"Great."
The elevator descended.
Evan felt his heart pounding.
"What proof did my mother hide?"
"I don't know all of it."
"Then what do you know?"
"My grandmother said your mother discovered someone was stealing money from the Whitmore Foundation."
"My father owns the foundation."
"Exactly."
Evan stared at her.
Nia continued.
"She also found medical files."
"What medical files?"
"Yours."
The elevator stopped.
Nia opened the gate.
The basement smelled of dust and stone.
They moved through an old passage until they reached a steel door.
Faded stars were painted around the frame.
The Midnight Room.
Nia pulled the crescent pendant from Evan's hand.
"There's a key inside."
She twisted the moon shape.
A tiny metal key slid out.
Evan stared.
His mother had worn a key around her neck his entire childhood.
Nia inserted it into the lock.
The door opened.
Inside was a room frozen in time.
Dark blue walls.
Silver stars.
A broken piano.
Old furniture covered in sheets.
And dozens of cardboard boxes.
Nia crossed to the far wall.
"My grandmother said the seventh star."
"What?"
She counted painted stars.
One.
Two.
Three.
Seven.
Nia pressed it.
A panel popped open.
Inside was a small digital recorder.
Evan's hands began to shake.
Nia pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then a woman's voice.
Evan stopped breathing.
It was Claire.
His mother.
"If Evan is hearing this, something has gone wrong."
Evan covered his mouth.
Nia watched him.
The recording continued.
"Richard has been lying about the foundation. But that isn't why I'm afraid."
A pause.
Then Claire whispered.
"I'm afraid because of what Marcus found in Evan's blood."
Evan looked down at his motionless legs.
The recording crackled.
"If they tell you the accident damaged his spine, don't believe them."
Evan's eyes filled with tears.
"My son can walk."
A sound came from outside the room.
Footsteps.
Nia quickly stopped the recorder.
Someone tried the steel handle.
Then Marcus Hale spoke from the other side.
"Evan."
His voice was quiet.
May you like
Too quiet.
"I know you're in there."
