Elisa couldn’t shake the thought off her head about the fact that Ashley had enemies who wanted her dead?
Wait a minute!
Before Elisa entered her body, she was involved in an accident.
Could it also be linked to it?
Could it be her enemies?
Elisa stared at the ceiling blankly, just waiting for Mira to return.
Something tells her that she would find something when the whole renovation begins.
She always wondered why a huge rug was used to cover the floor, unlike other rooms.
Also, she used a wardrobe, even though each room was built with a walk-in closet, and the closet was locked.
Elisa laid there till she felt the sun on her face, from the little open space in the curtain.
She grabbed her phone, waking Miso up in the process.
“Sorry Miso” she patted her fur, lulling her back to sleep.
“Oh hey” Elisa said hastily.
She forgot that she had already dialed Mira’s number before petting Miso and she didn’t even know that she has picked.
“I’m on my way, ma’am”
“Okay”
MThe heavy oak doors finally groaned open, and Mira stepped in, looking slightly out of breath but ready.
“I’m here, ma’am.
I brought the supplies we discussed.”
Elisa offered a tight, appreciative smile.
“Good.
We have a lot to get through today.” Before they could dive into the room’s mysteries, the physical reality of Ashley’s body caught up with Elisa.
She felt grimy, the scent of the hospital still seemingly clinging to her skin despite the expensive linens.
With practiced, quiet efficiency, Mira helped her into the en-suite bathroom.
The process of freshening up was a lesson in humility; being lifted and sponged down made Elisa feel vulnerable, yet it fueled her resolve to find out who had put Ashley in this state.
Once she was clean and dressed in comfortable silk loungewear, Mira carefully maneuvered her into the wheelchair.
Setting her feet on the rests, Elisa felt a surge of autonomy.
“Thank you, Mira.
Now, lock the door.
I don’t want any ‘surprises’ from Ethan or the staff.”
Elisa had Mira start with the perimeter, pulling back the heavy velvet curtains that seemed designed to swallow light.
They spent hours combing through the room.
Mira moved the heavy furniture, checking for hollow legs or taped envelopes, while Elisa sifted through the items in the detached wardrobe.
It was tedious work.
They found jewelry, high-end perfumes, and stacks of designer clothes, but nothing out of the ordinary.
“Ma’am, I think we’ll need help.
This is a lot of work for just me,” Mira said, wiping sweat from her brow.
“There’s nothing here but expensive dust.”
Elisa bit her lip, her eyes scanning the room once more.
She was about to agree and ask her call in someone but then her gaze landed on the center of the floor.
“The rug, Mira.
We haven’t moved the rug.”
It was an enormous, plush Persian carpet, easily weighing a hundred pounds.
It sat dead center, anchored by nothing but its own weight.
It was beautiful, but as Elisa had noted before, it was the only room in the entire mansion that didn’t showcase the polished marble or hardwood flooring.
“It’s so heavy,” Mira noted, gripping the edge.
Together, with Elisa pulling from her seated position and Mira heaving with her full weight, they began to peel it back.
The fabric fought them, sticking to the floor as if it hadn’t been moved in years.
As the floor was revealed, the strangeness became apparent.
The entire room was beautifully tiled in a cream marble—except for a three-foot square section directly under where the bed used to sit.
There, nestled among the stone, was a series of dark, weathered floorboards.
“Why would they leave the wood exposed here?” Mira whispered, kneeling to touch the grain.
“They didn’t leave it,” Elisa said, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Find a tool, Mira.
Pry it open.”
Mira found a heavy-duty letter opener and inserted it into the narrow gap between the boards.
With a sharp crack, the first plank gave way.
Mira gasped, losing her balance and falling back onto the marble.
Resting in the dark recess was a lethal collection.
There were three sleek handguns—a Glock 19, a Sig Sauer, and a smaller snub-nosed revolver—all meticulously cleaned and oiled.
Beside them lay dozens of loaded magazines, a silencer wrapped in chamois cloth, and a burner phone that looked ancient compared to the latest models.
“Ma’am…Mrs Ashley…
what is this?” Mira’s voice trembled, her face turning ashen.
“This isn’t…
you aren’t ….
I… you aren’t a collector, are you?”
The sight of the arsenal sent a chill down Elisa’s spine.
This wasn’t the “innocent” Ashley she had seen in the mirror.
This was the equipment of a shadow, a ghost, or a target.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
Someone was testing the handle.
Elisa reacted instantly.
“Mira!
Cover it back up!
Move the rug—now!”
They scrambled, Mira kicking the boards back into place and throwing the edge of the rug over the spot just as a knock sounded.
Elisa took a deep breath, smoothing her hair.
“Who?!” she shouted toward the door, loud enough to be heard by whoever was outside the door Without waiting for a response, she added.
“I’m having a private moment with my assistant!
Leave us until I ring!”
She waited until the footsteps faded.
The silence that followed was heavy with the scent of gun oil still lingering faintly.
She looked at the shaken Mira, then back at the hidden cache.
She wheeled herself to the windows, opening them up as the place was too stuffy even with the AC at 16°.
She stared out in the sky and exhaled loudly.
“Don’t be scared, Mira,” Elisa said, her voice dropping to a low, cold steel.
“I think we might need to have a chat, on a very personal level”