Chapter 67: The Pink Room

Angela’s POV
Angela's heart pounded in her chest as she sprinted through the pouring rain, her cries for help muffled by the downpour. The wet ground made her footing uncertain, and her vision blurred from raindrops plastering her face. Desperation pushed her forward as she sought to find an unlocked gate. Her search led her to trip over something, and her horrified gaze landed on a man's lifeless body. It was the guard she had been searching for, now dead. Recognition struck her like a lightning bolt. Angela's scream mixed with the rain as she realized what had happened.
Crawling away from the corpse, Angela struggled to her feet, her legs carrying her toward the second gate at the mansion's rear. However, reaching it brought frustration—this gate was secured with a larger lock, an insurmountable obstacle without the key. Shivering from cold and fear, Angela's mind raced. The fence was too tall to climb, and she felt trapped.
Remembering the gun, she hurried back to the house. Rain-soaked footsteps echoed through the rooms as she tightened her grip on the knife, her senses on high alert. The living room's floor was now wet, causing her steps to falter. She pushed forward, her ears straining for any sound. Racing to the kitchen to check on Mrs. Gale, Angela found the space empty. "Mrs. Gale, where are you?" She continued her frantic search, opening doors, and calling out for Mrs. Vera as well. The locked door of Mrs. Vera's room thwarted her attempts.
Desperation surged within her as she shouted for them repeatedly. Ultimately, Angela found herself in Leonardo's room, shutting the door behind her. Gasping for air, she wasted no time. Her gaze scanned the room for the gun, but it was absent. "Leonardo must have taken it," she sobbed, soaked and trembling against the wall.

After a few minutes of tearful breakdown, Angela composed herself. She rushed into her room, changing into dry clothes—a pair of pants and a black T-shirt. Returning to Leonardo's room, she donned his black jacket and slipped into sneakers. An ominous feeling lingered in the air; Angela sensed the killer's presence within the house. Dread gnawed at her as she considered the possibility that the killer might have murdered Mrs. Gale and concealed her body.
Anxiety and anger mingled as Angela's mind raced. She didn't know the identity of the murderer, but the chilling reality of their presence, the death of the guard, and Mrs. Gale's potential demise were terrifying. Questions swirled in her mind—what motivated this killer? Why had they chosen to kill innocents? Frustration boiled over, and Angela's voice rang out in anger, "Why?"
As the rain began to subside, the darkness of the night persisted, with hours left before daylight. Angela knew she had to endure until morning. Her priority was locating Mrs. Vera, as Angela had taken on the responsibility of ensuring her safety in Leonardo's absence.
A sudden idea struck her. Angela sprinted to search for the master key, then swiftly returned to Mrs. Vera's room. The key worked, and the door swung open. "Mrs. Vera?" Angela called out, scanning the room. The disheveled state of the bed and a pillow on the floor indicated a struggle. Angela's grip tightened on the knife she held.
Examining the scene, Angela traced the footsteps and bloodstains on the floor, her gaze landing on a muddy shoeprint. Someone had entered the room and forcibly pulled Mrs. Vera from her bed. Angela's mind raced as she followed the trail, baffled when the footsteps didn't lead to the door but instead to a cupboard.
Staring at the cupboard for a moment, Angela heard another cry for help. This cry seemed to emanate from behind the cupboard, reminiscent of the situation a few days prior in the basement. That experience had revealed a secret passage concealed behind a tall cabinet.
Adrenaline surged through Angela's veins as her heart raced. She longed for Leonardo's presence, yet reality dictated that she was her only source of help now. Summoning her resolve, Angela summoned her strength and pulled the cupboard away from the wall, unveiling a hidden door within.
Another scream echoed from the darkness behind the door, driving Angela forward. "Mrs. Vera," she whispered, bracing herself. Angela swung the door open, illuminating the path with her cellphone's flashlight. The light revealed a staircase leading downward, confirming her belief that this was another entrance to the tunnel. The atmosphere was damp, and Angela followed the trail of blood on the floor.
Unlike the other tunnel that led to the studio, this one featured a concrete floor and walls wallpapered to match the house's interior. Angela entered the concrete tunnel, her steps steady as she descended the staircase, determined to uncover the truth hidden beneath the mansion.
As Angela continued her journey through the tunnel, she was suddenly startled by a man's scream echoing through the underground passageway. Confusion gripped her. What was a man doing down there? She quickened her pace, determined to locate the source of the scream. In the dim light, she caught a glimpse of a white figure ahead—another encounter with the lady in the wedding gown. But just as swiftly, the figure vanished into the darkness.
Nervously, Angela called out, "Mrs. Vera, are you there?" As she pressed on, the tunnel stretched before her, and she tripped over an object on the ground. Her heart leaped into her throat as she recognized the body of a man—Andrew. Shock and horror overcame her as she stared at Andrew's lifeless and bloody form.
Confusion clouded her mind. How had he ended up in this tunnel? Kneeling beside him, she called his name, her voice trembling with desperation. "Andrew?"
His gasping words reached her ears. "Angela, you must run," he wheezed, his breath growing faint. "The lady in white... she's the murderer." With that, Andrew's voice trailed off, and he succumbed to death.
"Andrew, wait! Who is this lady?" Angela shook his body in frustration, seeking answers that were now beyond reach. Frustration mingled with sorrow as she released his lifeless form. "What's happening here?"
Another scream reverberated through the tunnel, this time a woman's voice—Mrs. Vera's. Angela sprinted toward the source of the sound, a glimmer of light guiding her path. A door loomed ahead, its feeble light shining through. Pushing the door open, Angela was greeted by a shocking sight. It was the pink room, but not the one from upstairs.

"It can't be," she whispered to herself, disbelief etched across her face. She stared at the room's duplicated interior design, unable to comprehend the eerie reality she was facing deep within the mansion's depths.

***
Leonardo’s POV
Leonardo was back on the road, driving tirelessly for several hours. Sleep was a distant luxury as his urgency to return home fueled his journey. His destination was the Malady Correctional for Women, where Rosemarie Mantissa, the key to the house's mysteries, had once been imprisoned. The information he had gathered gave him the determination to push forward.

Hours later, the prison's roof came into view on the horizon. Isolated in a remote location, the prison was dedicated to women's rehabilitation. After a brief stop, Leonardo had the information he needed. Rosemarie Mantissa, also known as Rosemary Gale Mantissa, was released 12 years ago. A distinct rose tattoo adorned her right shoulder. She was a husband killer, responsible for the gruesome death of Carlos Mantissa, the mansion's engineer and builder. The house he had constructed out of love had transformed into a place of horror after his wife murdered him with a kitchen knife and an ice pick.

As Leonardo sped down the road, panic set in. Could it be that Mrs. Gale was the lady in white? He desperately tried to contact Angela, but his cell phone was out of power. With the newfound urgency, he knew he had to reach their home as quickly as possible. He pressed the gas pedal, determination fueling his speed.

After three hours of relentless driving, Leonardo finally arrived at the gate of their property. Repeated honks went unanswered, and his phone's dead battery left him with no means of communication. Deciding to act, he scaled the fence adjacent to the gate—a familiar escape route from his youth when he sought the nightlife outside.

His footsteps echoed loudly within the gate, and he couldn't ignore the eerie silence that hung over the house. Though he had turned on some lights in the house, including one in the kitchen, his honking seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. The guardhouse, usually occupied, was deserted. Panic tightened its grip on Leonardo as he called out for Angela and his mother.

"Angela!" His voice carried a nervous tremor as he raced to the house.

Running into the pink room, he found it empty. He rushed to his mother's room, only to find signs of a struggle. His gaze fell on an unattached cupboard mounted on the wall—a clear indication of the secret door leading to the tunnel. A surge of worry swept over him. “Another tunnel, a different part of the house,” His anxiety deepened as he contemplated the enigma before him.