Chapter 37: The Door That Must Not Be Opened

Chapter 37: The Door That Must Not Be Opened
The morning breeze drifted softly through the villa corridor. It carried the scent of old wood and long-settled dust. Vanya walked slowly over the dark red carpet, which stretched like a path toward something no one wanted to discover. Damian had just gone out to inspect one of his territories, a regular routine and he took almost all the guards with him. Vanya took advantage of the moment. This was a rare opportunity when the entire villa was not fully watched by its owner.
For the past few days, there had been one room that made her uneasy. The door was always tightly locked. Never opened. Every time she passed it, she recalled Agnes's warning, delivered in an almost whispering tone.
"That's the room of dead memories. A place no one should enter except Master Damian."
Dead memories. Day by day, her curiosity gnawed at her. Especially after Damian's nightmares, his cold behaviour, the small locket he gripped like a second life, and his habit of isolating himself by the lake. All of it revolved like pieces of a puzzle yet to be fitted together. And the answer seemed to be hiding behind that forbidden door. She was certain of it.
So today, when the villa felt like a maze without a master, Vanya traced the silent, lonely corridor where the door was located.
She stopped in front of it. A dark wooden door with faint, faded carvings. The handle was matte black iron. She touched its surface, then shivered for no reason.
"Why are you locked, hmm?" she whispered. "What world does Damian want to hide?"
Vanya noticed a small gap under the door, which was very unusual for an empty room. It was as if air was passing in and out, even though there was no window on this side of the corridor.
She looked down and saw a small metallic shard lying in the corner beneath the door. It looked like a piece of a spare key that had fallen and been forgotten.
Her heart pounded. She picked it up and examined it. Small, old, but its shape seemed right for an internal lock.
She slowly inserted the key into the hole. Her movements were extremely cautious, as if one small mistake could ruin everything.
Click.
The small sound was enough to startle her. The door slowly creaked as she pushed it... opening a gap into a darkness that looked like another world.
Vanya froze for a moment before deciding to step inside. The room was cold. Colder than the rest of the villa. Vanya felt along the wall, searching for a light switch. As soon as she found it and turned on the light, a dim, yellow glow revealed the room's contents, which made her blood run cold.
Inside, there was a long table full of old folders, dusty documents, and photos pinned to the wall. In the middle of the room, there was an iron shelf containing hundreds of medical files. There was a faint scent of antiseptic medicine that seemed to have settled for years.
Vanya approached the table and saw a brown folder with a stamped inscription.
"Reconstruction Therapy Project. Founder: Dr Lucien Volkov."
Damian's father.
Vanya's hands trembled as she opened one of the folders. Inside were sheets of notes on intensive psychological experiments, extreme therapy methods, observations of patient behaviour, and clinical photos. Her eyes found three other folders of almost the same colour.
Isabelle Moreau, Adele Vasquez, Kataria del Monte
The three names struck her like lightning. The same names are involved in the cases of missing elite women. The cases she had been investigating before her normal life was snatched away.
She opened the first folder. A photo of Isabelle, a beautiful face but empty eyes, her hair dishevelled. A bruised chin. Below it was a date and a note:
"Subject showed resistance. Childhood trauma tendencies do not align with Dr Lucien's expectations. Reconstruction process Stage 2 failed."
Vanya bit her lip to stop from crying.
She opened the second folder. Adele. An elegant woman with a pearl necklace, but her body looked thin, as if she had endured something cruel. The note read...
"Subject received the electrosensory therapy technique. Emotional response significantly decreased. Pablo will continue to take over the supervision of the subsequent stages."
Pablo. That name appeared again. The person Elijah called "the dark shadow of the organisation." The person Damian never wanted to talk about.
She opened the third folder. Kataria. A photo covered in wounds. Eyes full of pleading terror.
Vanya covered her mouth, nearly gagging.
"My God... this isn't therapy... this is torture..."
The world felt like it was spinning. Did Damian know all of this? Damian was hiding all of this? Or was Damian actually... involved?
"Looking for something, Miss Vanya?"
The voice came from the doorway. Slow, cold, and deadly.
Vanya froze. She slowly turned and saw Elijah standing in the doorway. Damian's right hand, a man with eyes like a knife and a predatory aura that didn't need to shout to pose a threat.
"I didn't think you could open this room," he said, stepping inside. "This is... interesting."
Vanya's throat went instantly dry. "... I can explain."
"No need," he said, closing the door behind him. The sound of the lock clicking made Vanya's heart seem to drop to the floor. The man walked closer, his steps calm but full of danger. "You don't need to explain anything. The important thing is... what I will do after this."
Vanya took one step back. But the small room offered no space to escape.
"Listen, I didn't..."
"Do you know what these patients were doing?" Elijah pointed at the folders with his chin. "Yes. And do you know? They are not just patients. They are the key to something much bigger."
He looked at Vanya with a piercing gaze.
"You should not be here. Damian didn't want you to know."
Tears welled up in Vanya's eyes. Not solely because of fear, but because of her cracked pride. Damian was hiding this. Damian... the man who often held her at night...
"Are you going to tell Damian?" Vanya whispered.
Elijah let out a short laugh. "Unfortunately, Miss. You still don't understand your position. In our world... I never report. I decide."
He stepped closer. Vanya backed up until her back hit the wall.
"Elijah."
Another voice came from the back of the room. A voice that was deep and stressed. But also enveloped in anger.
Elijah stopped. Vanya's eyes widened.
Damian stood at the inner secret door. Another small door leading to a hidden corridor. His body was straight, his jaw clenched, and his black eyes were unreadable. But one thing was clear. He was angry. A voiceless, but lethal anger.
"Elijah," Damian repeated in a lower tone, "get out."