Whispers behind Locked Doors

The Cartwright Secrets

As Clara stood in Emily's old room, the note clutched in her trembling fingers, she felt the pull of unfinished business. The house felt heavier now, the oppressive silence thick with expectation. Vivienne, watching Clara from the hallway, looked as pale as she felt. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"What did you find?" Vivienne asked at last, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clara looked up, meeting Vivienne's gaze with wide eyes. She wanted to ask questions, to demand answers, but she couldn't find her voice. Instead, she simply shook her head.

"It's Emily," Clara whispered, her voice shaking. "I think... I think she left this for me."

Vivienne flinched, as though struck by something invisible. "Emily?" she echoed. "You don't believe that, do you?"

Clara didn't answer. She just stared at the note, her thoughts racing. Who had Emily been afraid of, and why hadn't anyone told her the truth?

Vivienne took a deep breath and stepped into the room, her eyes haunted as she looked around. "Emily left clues," she said, her voice distant. "She was always good at that."

Clara's gaze fell on the closed closet door. Her breath caught as she remembered the creak she'd heard the night before, the sound that had seemed to come from inside. She looked back at Vivienne, who followed her gaze, eyes narrowing.

"It's probably just the old house settling," Vivienne said, but she sounded unconvinced. "Nothing more."

Clara shook her head. "That's not true." She forced herself to move, reaching out to push the closet door open. The hinges creaked, and the scent of musty old wood filled the room. Inside, the narrow space was empty, save for a few discarded toys and a cobwebbed shelf.

"What was she hiding?" Clara wondered aloud.

Vivienne's face fell, and she shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "Emily was always good at keeping secrets."

Clara looked back at Vivienne, searching her expression for any hint of what might have happened that night. "Did she say anything to you?" she asked. "Anything at all?"

Vivienne hesitated, her gaze distant as she stared at the old wooden floorboards. "Only that she felt someone watching," she murmured. "She didn't tell me who."

Clara felt a chill run down her spine. "Was it Thomas?" she asked. "Was he involved?"

Vivienne flinched, her eyes flickering toward the hallway as though expecting someone to overhear. "Thomas was... difficult," she admitted. "He wasn't always kind to Emily."

Clara's pulse quickened. "What do you mean?" she asked, desperate for answers.

Vivienne shook her head, her hands clenched into fists. "I can't talk about it," she whispered. "Not here. Not now."

Clara took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Then where?" she asked. "Vivienne, please, I need to know what happened."

Vivienne hesitated, then looked around the empty room as though seeing it for the first time. "The library," she said at last. "It's where Thomas did most of his work. It might have some answers."

Clara nodded, clutching the note to her chest as she followed Vivienne out of the room. The hallway felt endless as they moved toward the back of the house. The air grew colder with each step, the shadows seeming to close in around them.

They reached the library, a cavernous room filled with books and old furniture. The floorboards creaked underfoot as Vivienne shut the door behind them, cutting off the rest of the house. The silence between them felt heavy, oppressive.

Vivienne turned to face Clara, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. "Thomas was controlling," she began, her voice low and rough. "He didn't like anyone questioning him, especially not Emily."

Clara's breath caught in her throat. "What do you mean?" she asked, desperation clear in her voice. "Was he hurting her?"

Vivienne closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. "He was always watching," she admitted. "Always there, even when you couldn't see him."

Clara's heart pounded in her chest. "Watching?" she echoed. "Through the tunnels?"

Vivienne's eyes flew open. She stared at Clara for a moment, then shook her head. "It was his way of keeping control," she whispered. "He had cameras hidden throughout the house, even in Emily's room."

Clara's breath hitched. "He was spying on her?" she breathed. "On all of you?"

Vivienne took a deep, shuddering breath. "Yes," she admitted. "And Emily must have known. She must have seen something she wasn't meant to."

Clara shook her head. "But that doesn't make sense," she murmured. "Emily wouldn't have kept quiet about that."

Vivienne's gaze grew distant, and for a moment, she looked like she was trying to hold back tears. "Emily was brave," she admitted. "Too brave for her own good." She took a deep breath and sat down in an old leather armchair, looking up at Clara. "Maybe that's what got her into trouble."

Clara sank into the chair opposite Vivienne, her mind racing. The library was full of secrets, each book and piece of furniture hiding something that the Cartwrights would rather forget.

"What do you think Emily saw?" Clara asked at last. "What was she trying to tell me?"

Vivienne took a deep, steadying breath. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I think we need to find out."

Clara squeezed the note in her hand, feeling the words against her palm. "I think so, too."