Ruby’s eyes widened at Don Franco’s question. It was only a second, but it was enough for Lita to notice the rapid change in her mistress’s face—from a smile to a slight panic, before returning to her gentle expression.

“Ah, Mama?” Ruby forced a laugh. “The signal at their retirement home is really weak. You know, in Paris, the building is old. Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of her.”

Don Franco nodded, obviously tired from the trip. He didn’t ask any more questions. And then Lita began to feel a strange weight in her chest.

That night, while the entire mansion was quiet, Lita woke up to a sound.

A growl.
Weak, hoarse, and full of suffering.

At first she thought it might be a cat. Or maybe just the wind. But she heard it again—more clearly this time. A sound that no animal could make.

A human groan.

Lita sat up in bed. The sound was coming from the direction of the kitchen.

In the direction of the Red Door.

She remembered Ruby’s warning. She remembered the dog food. The nights she would go in there and come out as if nothing had happened.

Fear gripped her chest. But her conscience was stronger than fear.

Carrying the small flashlight, she slowly went downstairs.

The kitchen was silent. The Red Door was there—blood-colored, thick, and with an old iron lock.

From under it, a smell was leaking.

The smell of filth.

And the smell of decay.

The voice growled again.

“Help… help…” almost in a whisper.

Lita’s hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. It was unlocked.

One step.

Two.

And when she finally opened the door—

she fell to her knees.

A narrow staircase opened up before him. Wet cement. The railing was rusty. At the end, a light bulb that was almost out of order.

And there he saw.

An old woman.

Very thin. Messy hair. Wearing a dirty dress that seemed like it would once be expensive.

Both feet and hands were chained.

In front of her—a bowl of dog food.

She ate it with trembling hands.

“D-Donyang Trinidad?” Lita’s voice barely came out.

The old man looked up.

Her eyes—full of tears and shame.

“Son…” he whispered. “Are you… real? Or is it another dream?”

Lita’s tears fell.

The billionaire’s mother.

The woman believed to be in Paris.

Was locked under her own house.

The next day, Lita tried to act as if she didn’t know. But her knees shook with every step.

Ruby was calm. Elegantly drinking her tea.

“Lita,” she called coldly. “You look awake. Did you see anything… you shouldn’t have seen last night?”

They stared at each other.

Ruby smiled—a smile without warmth.

“Remember,” she whispered, “many accidents happen to servants who are too curious.”

That night, Lita made up her mind.

She wouldn’t keep quiet.

She called a number—Don Franco’s personal assistant. The number she had once seen on the desk.

“Something’s wrong,” she cried. “Sir Franco’s mother… is at home. Chained. Underground.”

On the other line—silence.

And then—

“What’s the address?”

Ruby didn’t know that at that moment, her empire was beginning to crumble.

And the Red Door—which she thought was the tomb of truth—

would become the door to her downfall.

The Truth Buried Deep Down
That night, Lita was restless. She kept replaying in her mind what she saw at the bottom of the mansion—the woman bound, very thin, her eyes filled with fear but still sparkling with dignity. Donya Trinidad. The mother of her boss, Don Franco.

While the whole house was silent, Lita slowly got up. She slowly walked towards the kitchen. There was the Red Door—it seemed redder, heavier, more threatening as if it had its own breath.

This time, she had her cellphone with her. Her hand was shaking as she pressed the record.

When she opened the door, she was once again greeted by the cold stairs down. With each step, the smell of mold and rust returned. And underneath, Donya Trinidad was still there.

“Son…” the old man called softly when he saw Lita. “Help me get out. I don’t know how many years I’ve been here.”

Lita burst into tears. “Sir… I’ll call for help. I promise.”

She leaned her cellphone against a box and secretly took a video of Donya Trinidad’s condition—the chains on her feet, the bowl of dog food on the floor, the wound on her wrist.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded from above.

“Are you there again?” Ruby’s cold voice rang out.

Lita stopped. She quickly put the cellphone in her pocket. Ruby came down, wearing an expensive robe, but her eyes were as black as night.

“I thought I said it clearly,” Ruby said as she slowly approached. “It’s not allowed here.”

“Ma’am… she’s human. She’s Sir Franco’s mother,” Lita replied tremblingly.

Ruby laughed—a sound without a trace of pity. “Mother? She’s been out of our lives for a long time. She’s the obstacle to everything. To wealth. To control.”

She approached Donya Trinidad and kicked the bowl. “Eat.”

At that moment, Ruby’s cellphone rang. She looked at it—it was Don Franco calling.

Ruby’s face changed.

“Hello, my love,” she replied softly while staring at Lita. “I miss you so much.”

But she didn’t know…

That Lita’s cellphone was still recording.

And the truth was ready to come up from underground.

The Return of the Son
The next day, Don Franco arrived at the mansion earlier than expected. No announcement. No entourage. There was only one thing on his mind: the nervousness he couldn’t explain since his mother stopped answering him.

Opening the door, he was greeted by

Ruby with a forced smile.

“Franco? I thought you were still open,” he said.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Franco replied, but his eyes were wandering around the house. “Where’s Mom? The retirement home in Paris called. They said Mom wasn’t there. Never.”

Ruby stiffened.

Behind the stairs, Lita stood, shaking but firm. She slowly approached and handed Franco her cellphone.

“Sir… forgive me. But you have to see this.”

Franco pressed play.

The image of his mother appeared on the screen—chained, thin, shivering, eating from the dog’s bowl.

“No…” Franco shouted almost in a whisper. “This isn’t true.”

The cellphone fell from Ruby’s hand.

“Franco, listen—”

“Where is she?” Franco shouted. “Where is my mom?”

Lita pointed to the kitchen. The Red Door.

Franco quickly ran to the door. He opened it and went down underground. When he saw his mother, he fell to his knees.

“Mama…”

Donya Trinidad forced a smile. “Son… you’re going home.”

Franco removed the chains with his own hands, oblivious to the wound he had sustained.

Upstairs, Ruby tried to escape—but was stopped by the guards Franco had already called.

When they went up, Ruby was met by the police.

“Ruby dela Cruz,” Franco said coldly, “you are being arrested for illegal detention, elder abuse, and fraud.”

Ruby fell to the floor, crying, begging.

But no one came back.

For the first time in many years, Donya Trinidad saw the sun again.

And the Red Door—

was completely closed.