Chapter 4 - Someone Had Been Watching Us
I crossed the room silently.
Richard lifted one finger.
Wait.
The shadow remained beneath the door.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Then the floor creaked again.
The shadow disappeared.
I opened the door quickly.
The hallway was empty.
At the far end, a corner turned toward the main staircase.
I walked there.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No closing door.
When I returned, Richard looked angry.
“Whoever it was heard enough.”
“Maybe.”
I looked around the room differently now.
The mansion had cameras in common areas.
I had noticed them when I arrived.
But bedrooms were supposed to be private.
“Does Ethan have access to the security system?”
“Yes.”
“Who installed it?”
“He did.”
That answer bothered me.
I slowly scanned the ceiling.
Smoke detector.
Recessed lighting.
Vent.
Television.
A tiny dark reflection near the molding caught my attention.
I dragged a chair toward the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking something.”
I climbed up.
Near the corner was a small black sensor.
At first glance, it looked like part of the alarm system.
Then I saw the lens.
My blood went cold.
“Richard.”
He understood from my expression.
“There’s a camera.”
His face changed.
“Take it down.”
“No.”
I climbed off the chair.
“If we remove it, they’ll know we found it.”
Richard swore softly.
I looked toward the lens.
“Do you normally change clothes in this room?”
“Yes.”
“Then whoever installed that is committing more than a security violation.”
I positioned the chair back exactly where it had been.
“We need to assume everything in here can be seen.”
Richard nodded slowly.
“What do you suggest?”
“From now on, your rehabilitation happens somewhere else.”
“Where?”
I thought about the estate layout.
On my first tour, Chloe had shown me almost every room.
Almost.
“There’s a laundry service hallway behind the west wing.”
Richard frowned.
“How do you know?”
“I saw the staff using it yesterday.”
“It leads downstairs.”
“To what?”
“Old wine storage.”
“Does Ethan use it?”
“Not anymore.”
That night, we created a performance.
In front of the hidden camera, I gave Richard his visible medications.
I moved his legs passively.
I complained aloud about how little progress he was making.
Richard played helplessness so convincingly that it disturbed me.
After midnight, I quietly returned.
I switched off the hallway lamp as though heading to the kitchen.
Instead, I went through the service corridor.
Richard met me fifteen minutes later in a manual wheelchair he kept hidden in a storage closet.
“How did you get here?”
“Arms.”
“You pushed yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Down that ramp?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“You are determined to make my job impossible.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“It’s my exhausted opinion.”
The old wine room had stone walls and no cameras that we could see.
I locked the interior door.
Then I stood in front of Richard.
“Try to stand.”
His expression became serious.
I braced my feet.
He placed both hands on the arms of the chair.
Slowly, shaking badly, Richard pushed upward.
His knees trembled.
His entire body strained.
For one second, he rose.
Then two.
Then three.
He collapsed back into the chair, breathing hard.
But he had done it.
Richard stared at me.
I smiled before I could stop myself.
“You stood.”
His eyes filled with disbelief.
“I stood.”
For the first time since I entered the mansion, hope seemed larger than fear.
Then we heard a sound outside the wine room.
A metal handle moved.
Once.
May you like
Twice.
Someone was trying to open the door.
