Chapter 2 - The Sound Behind the Drywall
The tiny voice echoed faintly, muffled by layers of brick, insulation, and thick drywall.
Hannah froze, the silver tray slipping slightly in her grip. Her breath caught in her throat. She knew that voice. She had heard it in her nightmares for four agonizing years.
Julian.
Impossible. Julian was gone. Julian was buried beneath a granite headstone in a cemetery three miles away, a grave Arthur visited every Sunday with heavy shoulders and tearless eyes.
"Hannah..."
The voice came again, weaker this time, accompanied by a frantic, rhythmic scratching against the interior of the wall.
Panic, hot and blinding, surged through Hannah’s veins. She didn't think about her job, her salary, or the powerful people surrounding her. She only thought of the little boy who used to pull on her apron strings and beg her for extra chocolate chip cookies.
Dropping the silver tray, the champagne glasses shattered against the marble floor with a deafening crash that echoed like a gunshot through the ballroom.
Dozens of heads snapped toward her. Gasps of indignation rippled through the nearest tables.
"What on earth is that clumsy servant doing?" a wealthy socialite snapped, waving a hand in disgust.
Arthur Sterling frowned, pulling away from Evelyn as he turned his gaze toward the commotion. "Hannah? What is the meaning of this?"
Hannah ignored them all. She fell to her knees before the eastern wall, her hands clawing desperately at the decorative wood paneling. The mahogany boards were secured with heavy industrial screws, completely flush with the plaster.
"Hannah, step away from the wall immediately," Arthur commanded, his voice carrying the icy authority of a billionaire accustomed to absolute obedience. He strode across the floor, his expression hardening. "You are fired. Clean this up and—"
"Mr. Sterling, listen!" Hannah screamed, her voice cracking with raw terror. She hammered her fists against the drywall. "There’s someone inside! There’s a child in the wall!"
The elite guests murmured, exchanging bewildered glances. Some laughed nervously, thinking it was a piece of bizarre performance art.
Evelyn Sterling glided forward, her face a mask of immaculate, icy composure, though a flicker of raw panic flashed deep within her eyes. "Arthur, the poor woman has clearly lost her mind. The stress of the gala must have triggered a mental breakdown. Security, please escort her outside."
"No!" Hannah shrieked. She looked around wildly, spotted a heavy brass fire extinguisher mounted near the service exit, and scrambled toward it. Before two approaching security guards could grab her, she unhooked the heavy cylinder and swung it with all her might against the decorative plaster.
CRASH.
The drywall splintered, dust billowing out in a choking gray cloud.
"Hannah, stop!" Arthur roared, lunging forward and grabbing her arm. "Have you gone completely insane?"
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"Look!" Hannah sobbed, pointing a trembling finger at the ragged hole in the wall. "Just look!"
She shoved her bare hands into the jagged opening, ripping away chunks of lath and insulation. A wave of suffocating, foul-smelling air rushed outward. And then, from the blackness of the hidden cavity, a small, dirt-streaked hand reached out blindly into the light, its fingers grasping frantically at the air.
