Mark: Eleanor, what is a child doing trapped inside our hallway wall? Whose boy is this?
Eleanor: I have no idea what you are talking about, Mark. Pull him out before he suffocates, and we will figure it out.
Mark: Do not give me that corporate voice! You do not look surprised at all!
Mark ripped away larger pieces of the drywall, ignoring the sharp edges biting into his palms. He pulled the dusty seven-year-old boy out into the brightly lit hallway. The child clung to Mark’s suit jacket, sobbing into his shoulder while clutching an old smartphone tightly in his left hand.
Boy: She locked me in there. She said if I made a sound, I would never see my real family again.
Mark: She who? Son, look at me. Who locked you in there?
Boy: Her. The lady in the blue dress.
Mark slowly stood up, keeping the little boy behind his back. He stared at his wife of eight years. Eleanor did not flinch. She picked up a silk napkin from a nearby table and calmly wiped a speck of white drywall dust off her designer handbag.
Mark: Eleanor. Explain this right now before I call the police.
Eleanor: Call the police? And destroy everything we built? Do you have any idea what is at stake tonight, Mark? The trust fund distribution, the estate transfer, the firm's merger—all of it depends on our reputation!
Mark: Reputation? There was a child sealed inside our wall! Is this why you renovated the east wing last month? Is this why you insisted on hiring private contractors from out of state?
Eleanor: That boy is a trespasser's kid. He wandered into the construction site weeks ago, and things got complicated. I was managing the risk.
Mark: Managing the risk? You locked a human child in a hidden crawl space like trash!
Boy: She took my mom's letters too! She took them and hid them in the safe!
Mark: What letters, buddy? Take a deep breath. Tell me your name.
Boy: My name is Leo. My real dad used to live here before the accident...
Mark felt a cold chill run down his spine. Five years ago, Mark had inherited this massive estate after his wealthy business partner, David, died in a tragic car crash. David’s young son and wife had reportedly moved overseas shorty after the funeral, leaving Mark as the sole heir to the entire real estate portfolio and investment firm.
Mark: David... David’s son was named Leo. But Leo died in a clinic overseas... that’s what you told me, Eleanor!
Eleanor: You were grieving, Mark. You were not strong enough to handle the full truth back then.
Mark: You lied to me? For five years, you told me David’s family abandoned the estate and died broke?
Eleanor: I saved this family! David was bankrupt! His estate was drowning in debt until I restructured the trust funds! If his heir was alive, we would have lost everything—the mansion, the business, our entire life!
Mark: You did not save us, Eleanor. You stole from an orphan.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the mansion swung open. Eleanor’s personal head of security, a tall man in a dark suit named Vance, stepped into the hallway, his face cold and unreadable. He looked at the broken wall, then at Mark, then at the child.
Vance: Ma'am, the first private donors are turning into the driveway. Do you need me to clear the floor?
Eleanor: Take the boy to the lower cellar, Vance. We will settle this after the gala guests leave.
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