Chapter 4
Jane's POV
The next afternoon, Morrison left to attend an academic conference, leaving me alone in the mansion. I seized the opportunity to slip into his study and begin my real mission. This was a race against time—Morrison's meetings typically lasted three hours, but he sometimes returned early without warning.
According to Sarah's description, the safe should be somewhere in the study, but the question was how to find it. I searched methodically by section, first checking every painting on the walls. Nothing. Then the floor, carefully tapping each wooden board, listening for a hollow sound. Still nothing.
Time ticked away relentlessly, sweat soaking through the back of my shirt. I'd been searching for two hours without even a glimpse of the safe. Just as I was about to give up, my eyes fell on the marble statue behind Morrison's desk—Athena, goddess of wisdom, gazing haughtily over every corner of the room.
"He likes to hide his secrets behind wisdom." Sarah's words exploded in my mind like thunder.
I immediately examined the statue's base and discovered it wasn't fixed to the floor. Gently rotating the statue revealed a tiny recess underneath. My heart pounded wildly, my fingers trembling as I pressed the indentation.
The wall silently slid open, revealing a recessed safe. Victory was within reach—but just as I extended my hand, a nearly invisible red beam caught my eye. An alarm sensor! One centimeter more, and I would have triggered the security system for the entire house.
This bastard was DAMN paranoid!
I carefully avoided the sensor and studied the lock. It was a six-digit combination lock with up to a million possible combinations.
"What could the password be? Sarah mentioned he likes to use important dates..." I whispered to myself, my fingers hovering over the dial.
I tried his birthday first. Failed. Our wedding date. Failed again. The day he received tenure, the date his first major paper was published... all these obvious dates were invalid.
The safe remained stubbornly shut.
FUCK! What was the password?!
Suddenly, I remembered the date on the back of that baby photo in his desk drawer. Maybe... that child was important to him? I entered the date from the photo, and the safe emitted a soft "click" as the first lock opened!
But this was just the beginning. The second lock was fingerprint recognition.
My heart sank. A fingerprint lock was almost impossible to crack. But I remembered a trick Sarah had taught me. I quickly went to the master bathroom, found Morrison's drinking glass, and carefully lifted his fingerprint with clear tape. Back in the study, I transferred the fingerprint onto my thumb using a special gel I carried, and held my breath as I pressed it against the scanner.
After an agonizing three seconds, the safe finally opened completely.
But inside was only a key? Where were the files? The recordings?
Just then, I heard the distant sound of a car engine. My blood nearly froze—Morrison was back early! I hurriedly closed the safe and restored everything to its original state.
I had barely made it back to the kitchen, pretending to prepare dinner, when I heard the front door open.
"Jane? I'm home," Morrison's voice called from the entryway.
I forced myself to remain calm. "In the kitchen, dear. You're home early today."
Morrison walked into the kitchen and kissed my forehead. "The meeting ended early. What have you been up to today?"
"Nothing special," I smiled in response, my heart still racing. "Just did some housework and started preparing dinner."
His eyes scanned me, looking for any suspicious signs. But my performance was flawless—he detected nothing.
Three days later, Morrison needed to stay overnight at the university for a departmental evaluation meeting. This was the opportunity I'd been waiting for. I knew I had a full twelve hours of freedom.
I quickly returned to the study and reopened the safe. This time, I had enough time to retrieve the mysterious key.
For the next two hours, I searched the entire house. Master bedroom, guest rooms, study, storage rooms—the key didn't fit anywhere.
Finally, I stood before the basement door, suddenly feeling extremely uneasy.
"Just a wine cellar and storage room," Morrison had once said, his tone too casual. In a house where this man exercised extreme control over everything, the basement was the only place he never invited guests to visit.
I took a deep breath, gripping the flashlight and key tightly, and pushed open the basement door. The wooden stairs creaked ominously. Even with Morrison away, I still felt watched.
I spent nearly an hour examining every inch of the wine cellar walls, eventually noticing something unusual behind one of the wine racks—this rack protruded slightly more than the others. I tried to push it, but it wouldn't budge. Checking around, I discovered a brick in the wall beside the rack that looked ordinary but had a slightly different texture.
Pressing that brick caused the wall beside the wine rack to silently slide open, revealing a hidden door lock. I inserted the key, and the door opened.
I illuminated the path ahead with my flashlight, discovering a narrow corridor with another door at the end.
My heart pounding like a drum, I slowly advanced. When I pushed open the door, the sight before me nearly took my breath away.
Dozens of photographs hung on the walls—all young women, some I even recognized as female students who had studied in the Psychology Department over the years. File cabinets lined the corner, neatly arranged with years labeled on each drawer.
I forced myself to walk toward the file cabinets, my fingers lingering on the handle of the drawer marked "Five Years Ago." When I opened it, the contents made my heart stop.
Inside were neatly categorized female items—hair clips, lipsticks, wallets, journals, earrings—like some twisted collection. But among all the items, a silver butterfly necklace immediately caught my eye.
"Oh God... Grace..." my voice shattered in my throat.
I picked up the necklace with trembling hands, the cold metal feeling like a blade piercing my heart. This was the gift I had given Grace on her twentieth birthday, the one she had sworn never to take off.
Now it lay silently among Morrison's collection of trophies.
Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably as I collapsed onto the cold floor, clutching the necklace tightly to my chest. "Sis, I'm sorry... I was too late... I was too late..."