Chapter 4 The door behind
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the small silver key in my hand. It wasn’t heavy, but it felt like it carried the weight of something important or maybe something dangerous.
Carson had placed it in my palm before walking out last night, his voice low and firm.
"Keep this safe, Annabelle."
That was all he said. Nothing more. No explanation. No warning.
I haven't slept since then. My mind kept spinning with questions. Why did he give me a key? What was it for? And most importantly, did he expect me to use it?
I wasn’t stupid. Carson Clair was powerful, careful, and always in control. He never did anything without a reason. If he gave me this key, it wasn’t by accident. It was either a test… or a trap.
A sharp knock came at the door.
I quickly placed the key under my pillow just as the door opened.
Carson walked in.
He was dressed in black again—black suit, black shirt, like he belonged to the darkness. His face, as always, showed nothing. No anger, no concern, it's just there.
"You still have the key," he said, his voice calm.
"Yes."I said,avoiding eye contacts
"Good."
I frowned. "What is it for?"
"That’s for you to figure out," he said.
I gripped the bedsheet. "And what if I don’t want to?"
"Oh, you will. Because curiosity always wins."
His eyes darkened. "Just be careful, Annabelle. Some doors are better left closed."
And with that, he walked out, leaving me with nothing but the key and a thousand unanswered questions.
The rest of the day passed in silence.
I ate breakfast in silence, barely touching my food. I wandered around the house, trying to ignore the way the guards watched me. Every hallway, every door, every step reminded me that I wasn’t free.
By the time the sun started setting, my mind was screaming for answers. My heart wouldn’t settle, and no matter how much I tried to distract myself, my thoughts kept going back to that key. It was small, cold in my palm, but it felt heavier than anything I had ever held.
I found myself back in my bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the key again. Carson’s words echoed in my head.
"Some doors are better left closed."
I bit my lip, rolling the key between my fingers. What was behind that door? What was he trying so hard to keep me from?
A part of me wanted to throw the key away. To pretend I never had it. To act like it didn’t matter. But another part—the part of me that still held on to the little freedom I had left—wanted to know the truth.
And that part was winning.
I stood up, pacing back and forth, with the key still in my hand like someone who missed her way.
Maybe I was overthinking, maybe it was nothing serious. Maybe it was just a storage room, or a place he kept old things.
But if it was nothing, why was he so secretive about it?
The curiosity was eating me up and I just needed to know. But I also knew I couldn’t just go and open the door. What if Carson found out? What if there were cameras watching? What if—
Another knock came at the door.
I quickly put the key into my pocket and turned. A maid stood at the doorway, her hands neatly folded in front of her. I had seen her before, but I didn’t even know her name.
“Dinner is ready, ma’am,” she said politely.
I nodded but didn’t move. My mind was spinning with thoughts.
“Wait,” I talked out before she could turn to leave.
She paused, looking at me with curiosity.
I hesitated. Should I ask? Should I even mention it? Would she tell Carson?
But my need for answers was stronger than my fear.
“Is there any door that looks separated from the house?” I asked ,trying to start my conversation well enough.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, her voice quiet.
I took a deep breath. “What’s behind it?”
For a moment, she didn’t answer. She looked down, her hands gripping the fabric of her uniform.
“It’s not my place to say,” she finally whispered.
My heart started beating faster. “So you do know.”
She pressed her lips together. “Please, ma’am… don’t ask about that door.”
That only made me want to ask more.
“Why?” I pushed. “What’s inside?”
She shook her head quickly, stepping back. “I shouldn’t be talking about this. Please forget I said anything.”
Before I could say anything else, she gave a small bow and rushed off, her footsteps barely making a sound against the floor.
I stood there, my heart pounding.
She knew. She definitely knew something.
And whatever it was, it was something she was too scared to talk about.
I pulled the key out of my pocket, staring at it once again.
I had to find out.
And I had to do it soon.
Night came quickly.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
I slipped out of bed, my bare feet touching the cold floor. My heart raced fast, as I grabbed the key and stepped into the hallway.
I moved carefully, and my steps were quiet. I didn’t know where the guards were, but I couldn’t risk getting caught. If Carson found out what I was doing… I didn’t even want to think about it.
Then I saw it.
At the end of the hallway, half-hidden in the shadows, was a door.
It looked like every other door in this house—tall, dark, polished. But something about it felt different.
Was this the door?
I reached out and touched the handle. It was freezing, like it hadn’t been used in a long time.
My hand trembled in remembrance of Carson's words.
"Some doors are better left closed."
I could turn around now. I could go back to my bed, pretend I never saw this, and live whatever life Carson wanted for me.
But deep down, I knew that wasn’t an option.
Because once a door is found, it must be opened.
Slowly, I raised the key to the lock.
My breath felt stuck in my throat as I slid it in.
Click.
The lock turned.
The door creaked open.
And what I saw inside made my blood freeze for a moment.
Right.