PART 4 — The Camera That Was Never Supposed to Exist
The photograph lay on the table between us.
Lucas and Leo were sleeping peacefully in their beds.
Someone had stood inside their bedroom in the middle of the night.
Someone had taken the photograph without waking them.
I looked at Vincent.
“Who has access to the security system?”
“My security team.”
“How many people?”
“Eight.”
“Who can disable the cameras?”
Vincent hesitated.
“Three people.”
“Who?”
“My head of security. My personal assistant. And me.”
I looked at Dr. Blake.
“What about you?”
“No.”
His answer came too quickly.
Vincent noticed it too.
“You're sure?”
“Absolutely.”
I studied his face.
He was hiding something.
But whether he was hiding guilt or fear, I couldn't tell.
Suddenly, Mrs. Harper entered the room.
“Mr. Moretti…”
She looked pale.
“What is it?”
“I found something in Lucas's room.”
She placed a tiny black object on the table.
A camera.
My stomach tightened.
Vincent picked it up.
“Where did you find this?”
“Inside the smoke detector.”
He stared at it.
“That isn't one of ours.”
I looked at the camera.
“How long has it been there?”
Mrs. Harper shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Vincent immediately called security.
“Trace this device.”
The guard took it away.
Then something happened that none of us expected.
The mansion lights suddenly went out.
Total darkness.
Lucas screamed from upstairs.
Vincent ran.
I followed.
“Claire!”
His voice echoed through the hallway.
We reached the guest wing.
The boys were standing on their beds.
Lucas was crying.
Leo was holding his brother.
“Someone was in here,” Lucas whispered.
Vincent froze.
“What?”
“I heard the door.”
I turned toward the entrance.
The door was open.
But there was nobody there.
I checked the hallway.
Empty.
Then I noticed something on the floor.
A small muddy footprint.
Someone had entered from outside.
I crouched down.
The footprint was fresh.
Vincent called security.
“Lock the entire property down.”
The guards arrived within seconds.
But the intruder was already gone.
Or so we thought.
Twenty minutes later, the electricity returned.
Security searched every room.
Nothing.
No broken windows.
No damaged locks.
No missing objects.
It looked like whoever entered had wanted only one thing.
To frighten the boys.
But then the security chief came into the room.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“What?”
“We found something.”
He handed Vincent a tablet.
“There was a camera recording from the west wing.”
Vincent frowned.
“That area isn't connected to the system.”
“Exactly.”
He pressed play.
The screen showed a hallway.
The west wing.
The timestamp was from the previous night.
At 3:17 a.m.
The same time the ventilation room had been accessed.
A figure appeared.
Dark coat.
Gloves.
Face hidden.
The person walked toward Isabella's old office.
Then stopped.
They turned toward the camera.
And removed their hood.
Vincent stopped breathing.
I looked at the screen.
The face was clear.
It was Mrs. Harper.
Vincent slowly turned toward her.
She looked horrified.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“That isn't me.”
The security chief looked confused.
“The camera doesn't lie.”
Mrs. Harper stepped backward.
“I swear to you, I wasn't there.”
Vincent stared at her.
“You told me you hadn't entered the west wing.”
“I haven't!”
“Then explain that.”
She couldn't.
I watched her carefully.
She looked terrified.
But not guilty.
There was something else.
Confusion.
Like she genuinely had no idea how her face had appeared on that recording.
I walked toward the screen.
“Pause it.”
The guard paused.
I zoomed in.
Something was wrong.
The face looked like Mrs. Harper.
But the eyes didn't.
The proportions were slightly off.
I leaned closer.
“That's not her.”
Vincent looked at me.
“What?”
“Look at the jawline.”
He stared.
“The lighting is bad.”
“No.”
I pointed.
“The person is wearing a mask.”
The security chief enlarged the image.
And there it was.
A thin seam running beneath the ear.
Someone had created a highly realistic facial mask.
Someone had deliberately made themselves look like Mrs. Harper.
Vincent's expression hardened.
“This isn't an amateur.”
“No,” I said.
“This person knows the security system.”
The security chief suddenly received a notification.
He looked at his phone.
“Sir…”
“What?”
“The camera footage has been altered.”
Vincent stared at him.
“Altered how?”
“The original recording was overwritten six minutes ago.”
“By whom?”
The security chief's face became pale.
“Your account.”
Vincent said nothing.
Someone had accessed the system using his personal credentials.
Again.
I looked around the room.
“We need to stop assuming the attacker is trying to hide.”
Vincent looked at me.
“What do you mean?”
“They want us to find clues.”
“Why?”
“To make us chase the wrong person.”
I looked at the photograph.
Then the bracelet.
Then the fake recording.
Everything pointed toward Dr. Blake.
Then Mrs. Harper.
Too many obvious suspects.
Too many convenient discoveries.
Someone was controlling the investigation.
And that meant they knew exactly how Vincent would react.
I turned to him.
“Who knows your habits?”
He frowned.
“What kind of habits?”
“When you wake up. Where you work. When you leave. Who you trust. Which rooms you use.”
“My employees.”
“Who knows all of it?”
He thought.
Then his face changed.
“One person.”
“Who?”
“My personal assistant.”
“What is his name?”
“Daniel.”
“Daniel what?”
“Daniel Reed.”
Before Vincent could say anything else, his phone rang.
Daniel.
Vincent answered.
“Where are you?”
A pause.
Then Daniel's voice came through.
“I'm at home, sir.”
Vincent looked at me.
“Why?”
Another pause.
“Because someone broke into my apartment.”
The room became silent.
Vincent stood completely still.
“What was stolen?”
Daniel's voice trembled.
“Nothing.”
“Then what happened?”
“I found something on my desk.”
“What?”
Daniel took a breath.
“A photograph.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Of the boys?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Of Isabella.”
My blood ran cold.
“What does it say?” Vincent asked.
Daniel answered in a whisper.
“It says…”
He stopped.
“Say it.”
“It says, She knew the truth before she died.”
Vincent's hand tightened around the phone.
Then Daniel screamed.
The call went dead.
Vincent immediately called back.
No answer.
He looked at the security chief.
“Find his location.”
The man began typing.
Seconds later, he looked up.
“Sir…”
“What?”
“Daniel's phone is here.”
“Here?”
The guard nodded.
“Inside the mansion.”
Nobody moved.
Vincent slowly looked around the room.
Daniel had said he was at home.
But his phone was inside the mansion.
Which meant either Daniel was lying…
Or someone was using his phone to make us believe he was.
I looked toward the hallway.
Then I heard it.
Three soft knocks.
From Isabella's old office.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Vincent reached for the door.
I grabbed his arm.
“Wait.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“If someone wants us to open that door…”
I stared at the handle.
“…we shouldn't.”
Then, from behind the locked door, a man's voice whispered:
“Claire…”
My blood froze.
Because I had never told anyone in this mansion my full name.
And whoever was behind that door…
knew exactly who I was.
TO BE CONTINUED…
