The quiet library inside the massive brick mansion was usually completely silent on Sunday afternoons.
Ten-year-old Leo stood in the center of the room with a heavy wooden mallet in his hand.
His stepmother Sarah was sitting near the large dark desk while filling out long financial forms.
His father Mark was busy arguing on the phone about the family business and its debt.
Leo looked closely at the huge portrait of his grandfather hanging on the main wall.
The dark painting had hung in that exact spot for more than thirty years.
Leo stepped closer to the painted eyes and pressed his ear against the cold frame.
He was sure that he heard a faint tapping noise coming from inside the wall.
Leo: Grandpa is trying to talk to me right now!
Mark immediately hung up his mobile phone and stared at his young son with anger.
Mark: Do not start making up strange stories again today, Leo.
Sarah: Your grandfather died in a hospital two full years ago, sweetie.
Leo: I am telling you the complete truth!
Leo raised the heavy wooden mallet high above his small shoulder with both hands.
Mark: Put that tool away before you hurt yourself or break something!
Leo did not listen to his father's loud warning at all.
He swung the mallet forward as hard as his young arms could possibly manage.
The heavy mallet head crashed directly into the bottom corner of the classic painting.
A loud sound echoed across the grand library as the antique frame cracked loudly.
Sarah: Stop it right now, Leo!
Sarah jumped up from her leather chair and rushed across the shiny hardwood floor.
Leo raised the mallet a second time and struck the center of the artwork.
The old canvas ripped wide open with a sudden and violent tear.
Mark ran across the room and grabbed Leo around his chest from behind.
Mark: What on earth is wrong with you today?
Leo: Let me go because Grandpa needs our help!
Leo struggled wildly in his father's firm grip while pointing at the wall.
A large section of the painted canvas fell away onto the polished floor.
Behind the ruined painting sat a heavy iron doorway set deep into the brickwork.
Sarah froze in her tracks and stared at the dark metal handle in shock.
Sarah: How long has that secret doorway been hidden behind there?
Mark: My father never mentioned any secret rooms in this entire mansion.
Leo: I told you that someone was knocking behind the dark wall!
Mark slowly set his young son down onto the wooden floorboards.
He walked toward the broken painting with very slow and cautious steps.
The iron doorway was locked tight with a thick keyhole near the handle.
A cold breeze drifted out from the small crack around the metal edge.
Sarah: We should call the police right now before doing anything else.
Mark: No, this is my family home and my private property.
Mark reached out his hand and touched the cold iron handle very carefully.
He pulled on the handle, but the heavy metal door remained locked tight.
Leo pointed down toward the dark baseboard beneath the torn portrait frame.
Leo: Look down there because something small is shining under the wood!