The Glass Floor Under the Bed

Part Two of the Story… 👇

A Secret Under the Floor

The sound of the car horn cut through the heavy afternoon air like a blade. My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I could hear it in my ears. I looked at the gateman, his face twisted into an unnatural, wide grin that didn’t reach his cold eyes. The metallic glint of the key vanishing down his throat made my stomach heave. He stepped closer to the iron gates, folding his arms across his chest, ensuring I understood that there was no way out through the front. Behind me, the massive front doors of the mansion felt less like a home and more like the entrance to a gilded cage.

I backed away from the gate, clutching my handbag tightly against my chest. The horn sounded a second time, a long, impatient blast that signaled Obinna was turning into the driveway. He always expected the gates to fly open the moment his car approached. Desperation took over. I couldn’t let him see me standing there with my bags packed. If he realized I knew about the room beneath our bed, about the woman who wore my face, I knew I would never leave this compound alive.

Turning on my heel, I sprinted back toward the house. My heels clicked loudly on the interlocking stones of the compound, so I kicked them off, running barefoot into the cool marble living room. I flew up the stairs, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I needed to act normal. I needed to pretend the last twenty minutes had never happened.

I burst into the master bedroom, throwing my packed bag into the depths of the walk-in closet, burying it beneath a pile of heavy winter coats we only used for trips abroad. Then, I forced myself to walk over to the bed. My legs trembled so violently I could barely stand. I forced myself to look down at the floor. The rug was pushed back just enough to expose the seam. With shaking hands, I dragged the heavy, plush fabric back into place, smoothing it down until the floor looked completely undisturbed.

Below me, just inches away beneath the thick glass, a woman who shared my DNA was trapped in a subterranean prison. Who was she? How long had she been down there? The thought of her pregnant belly and her desperate, silent plea made a cold sweat break out across my neck.

The heavy thud of footsteps on the stairs told me Obinna was coming. I quickly grabbed a book from the nightstand, threw myself onto the bed, and tried to regulate my breathing. By the time the door handled turned, I was staring at the pages, though the words blurred together into a meaningless jolt of ink.

Obinna walked in, his tailored suit immaculate, his presence commanding as always. He smelled of expensive cologne and success. But looking at him now, the warmth I usually felt was replaced by a paralyzing dread.

“Onyinye, my love,” he said, his voice smooth and rich. He walked over and kissed the top of my head. “The gateman mentioned you came running outside with a bag. Is everything alright?”

My chest tightened. The gateman had already signaled him. I forced a laugh, praying it didn’t sound as hollow as it felt. “Oh, that? Yes, I was just gathering some old clothes to give to the church charity. I wanted to take them to the car, but the gateman seemed… out of sorts today. He wouldn’t open up.”

Obinna paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied my face. For a terrifying second, I thought he saw right through me. Then, his features relaxed into that familiar, charming smile that had won my heart a year ago. “Ah, I see. Don’t mind him. I’ll handle the charity clothes later. You shouldn’t stress yourself with heavy lifting.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, right above the spot where the glass floor lay hidden. Every instinct shouted at me to run, but I stayed still, forcing a smile.

“You look pale, Onyinye,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke my cheek. His fingers felt like ice against my skin. “Are you sure you haven’t been digging around where you shouldn’t be? You remember what I told you about the protection under this bed. It requires peace. It requires obedience.”

“I remember,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I haven’t touched a thing.”

He nodded, satisfied, and stood up to change into his indoor clothes. The moment he walked into the bathroom and the shower began to run, I moved. I couldn’t just sit there. I needed to know what was happening, and I needed an escape plan. The front gate was compromised, but the high walls at the back of the house bordered a thick plot of undeveloped land. If I could find a way over, I could escape into the neighborhood.