Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE WITHOUT WINDOWS
Damon took Ava to a private residence in Beacon Hill.
From the outside, the house appeared elegant but ordinary, with dark brick, white-trimmed windows, and a small iron fence. Inside, however, the security was unlike anything Ava had seen. Cameras watched every entrance. Reinforced doors locked automatically behind them. Two armed guards stood in the hallway without speaking.
Damon led Ava into a quiet sitting room where a fire burned behind glass.
Dr. Elise examined her again. Ava’s jaw was badly bruised but not broken. She had a mild concussion, a cut requiring stitches, and older injuries that immediately drew Elise’s attention.
“These bruises are in different stages of healing,” Elise said gently.
Ava stared at the carpet.
“How long has this been happening?”
“Three years.”
Damon stood near the window, his back to the room.
Elise’s expression softened. “Have you ever received treatment?”
“Richard chose the doctors.”
“Did they ask questions?”
“Only when he was present.”
Elise glanced toward Damon, anger passing silently between them.
After treating Ava’s injuries, Elise left her with pain medication and instructions to rest.
Damon remained by the window.
Ava watched him for several minutes.
“You knew Richard.”
Damon did not answer immediately.
“You reacted when he mentioned your brother.”
“He knows a name.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Damon turned.
“Richard worked for a development firm connected to one of my companies twelve years ago. He was a junior architect.”
“And Gabriel?”
Damon’s jaw tightened.
“My younger brother.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
Richard’s words returned to Ava.
Ask him what happened to his brother.
“How?”
“Officially, a warehouse fire.”
“Unofficially?”
Damon walked to a cabinet and poured a glass of water, though he did not drink it.
“Gabriel was investigating stolen property being moved through construction sites. He believed someone was using demolition contracts to hide evidence of trafficking.”
Ava felt cold despite the fire.
“People?”
“Yes.”
“Was Richard involved?”
“I never proved it.”
“But you suspected him.”
“I suspected several people.”
Ava pulled Damon’s coat more tightly around herself.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this when we were together?”
“Because I wanted you nowhere near it.”
“So you disappeared.”
Damon looked at her.
Three years earlier, Ava had believed Damon abandoned her without explanation. One day they had been planning a quiet weekend in Maine. The next, his phone was disconnected and his apartment empty.
Two months later, she met Richard at an architectural fundraiser.
Richard had been patient, charming, and unusually understanding when she spoke about being abandoned. He seemed to know exactly which wounds to comfort.
Now that coincidence felt sinister.
Damon placed his phone on the table.
The threatening message was still displayed.
Ava read it again.
She was never supposed to call you.
“Richard knew I had your number,” she said.
“He may have known you once had it.”
“No. He went through my phone when we got married. He made me delete every man he considered a threat.”
Damon’s eyes narrowed. “Did he know about this house?”
“I didn’t.”
“What about Gabriel?”
“You told me only that you had a brother who died young.”
Damon began pacing.
Ava suddenly remembered something.
“Richard has a photograph.”
“Of what?”
“It’s in the basement room.”
Damon stopped.
The basement was the one place in Richard’s home Ava feared most. He called it the recovery room, though there was nothing medical inside. It had concrete walls, a metal chair bolted to the floor, and no windows. Whenever Ava argued, resisted, or threatened to leave, Richard locked her there for hours.
Sometimes days.
“Behind the shelves,” Ava continued. “There’s a safe. Richard opened it once when he thought I was unconscious. I saw a photograph of three men standing in front of a burned building.”
“Could one have been Gabriel?”
“I don’t know.”
Damon picked up his phone and called someone named Nolan.
“Pull every property record connected to Richard Hale,” he ordered. “Especially the suburban residence. I want building plans, renovation permits, contractors, and surveillance access.”
Ava shook her head. “You can’t break into the house.”
“I’m not sending anyone yet.”
“You were thinking about it.”
“Yes.”
She almost smiled despite the pain. Damon had never been skilled at pretending innocence.
A guard entered.
“Mr. Pierce, there’s a woman at the gate. She says she is Ava’s sister.”
Ava’s heart tightened.
“Claire?”
“She came alone.”
Damon looked toward the security screen.
Claire stood outside in her wedding gown, now covered by a wool coat. Her mascara had run down her cheeks. She held a small black envelope.
Ava hesitated before allowing her inside.
Claire entered the room and immediately began crying.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have believed you.”
Ava remained seated.
Claire placed the envelope on the table.
“Richard gave this to Mom before he left the club. He told her to keep it hidden. I took it.”
Inside was a photograph.
Three men stood in front of a warehouse.
One was Richard.
One was Gabriel Pierce.
The third man was Ava and Claire’s late father, Thomas Monroe.
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On the back, someone had written:
Only one of us was supposed to die in the fire.
