Chapter 6: A Distant Knock
The sharp, sudden rap against the heavy oak door of Suite 904 shattered the quiet stillness of the evening. Ethan snapped his eyes open, his body instantly tensing as adrenaline surged through his veins. He stood up from the chair so quickly that the wooden legs scraped slightly against the carpet. Lily stirred on the bed, whimpering softly and pulling the stuffed rabbit closer to her chest, but she did not wake. Ethan held his breath, listening intently.
Another knock followed, firmer this time, accompanied by a muffled voice calling out his name. "Mr. Vance? Ethan, are you in there?"
It wasn't Martha, and it wasn't Clara from the front desk. The voice was masculine, clipped, and carried an authoritative edge that sent a cold shiver down Ethan's spine. He moved away from the bed, stepping silently across the sitting room until he reached the heavy wooden door. He checked the digital peephole, pressing his eye against the tiny glass lens.
In the dim hallway stood a man in his late forties, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that looked entirely out of place in the faded grandeur of the hotel's upper floor. It was Marcus Vance, Ethan’s estranged older brother. Marcus had stayed behind in their hometown, taking over the family’s failing mechanical business and absorbing every ounce of resentment their father had left behind. Seeing him standing outside the door felt like a physical blow to Ethan's chest.
Ethan slowly turned the deadbolt, pulled the door open just enough to block the entryway with his body, and glared at his brother. "How did you find me?" Ethan asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Marcus let out a dry, humorless laugh, resting one hand against the doorframe. "You left a trail of breadcrumbs a mile wide, Ethan. Charging a bus ticket on a credit card linked to the shared family account? Paying for a cup of coffee at a station two towns over using your old debit card? You didn't even try to hide, or maybe deep down, you wanted someone to come after you."
"I didn't want you," Ethan said flatly, his grip tightening on the edge of the door. "Keep your voice down. My daughter is sleeping."
Marcus peered past Ethan's shoulder into the dimly lit suite, his eyes scanning the luxurious furnishings before locking onto the closed bedroom door. "Nice digs for a man who claimed he was completely broke. Father's old contacts still paying off debts from the grave?"
"Leave, Marcus," Ethan warned, stepping forward so that his chest nearly touched his brother's lapel. "You have no business here. Whatever father left behind, you took it all. You have the shop, the house, the debts. Let us go."
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"It's not about what the old man left us, Ethan," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a harsh, serious register as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded manila envelope. "It's about what you took from the office safe before you walked out the door."
***
