Chapter 5 - SOMEONE HAD BEEN WATCHING
Victor listened to the security report twice.
Then a third time.
Finn slept upstairs after a warm bath and nearly an hour of crying.
Harper was gone again.
This time Victor had watched her leave without trying to stop her.
That restraint felt unnatural.
Now six men stood around the library table.
Marco placed a laptop in front of Victor.
“Finn's school portal was accessed at 1:52 p.m.”
“From where?”
“VPN.”
“What was opened?”
“Emergency contacts. Medical notes. Pick-up authorization.”
Victor's fingers went still.
“Harper?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“She was with Finn and police at that time.”
Victor looked around the room.
“Who has credentials?”
“School administration. You. Harper. Mrs. Alvarez for emergencies.”
Victor's voice lowered.
“Who else?”
Nobody answered.
Victor looked at Marco.
“Someone else has them.”
“Yes.”
“Find them.”
“We are.”
Victor leaned back.
“What did they download?”
Marco's silence lasted too long.
“Marco.”
“Finn's therapy records.”
Victor stood.
The men around the table straightened.
“What therapy records?”
“Trauma assessments. Triggers. Sensory issues.”
Victor stared.
Somewhere inside the city, somebody now knew exactly how to terrify his son.
“Who knew he was missing?”
“Everyone inside the house within seven minutes.”
“That means staff.”
“Possibly.”
“Security?”
“Possibly.”
Victor walked toward the window.
The estate grounds stretched black beneath the rain.
For years, he'd believed walls created safety.
Walls.
Guns.
Loyalty purchased through money or fear.
Harper had protected Finn with breathing exercises and green stuffed dragons.
Victor almost laughed at the absurdity.
One of those systems had failed today.
It wasn't hers.
“Review every employee.”
“We already started.”
“Last six months.”
“Victor—”
“Everyone.”
Marco's face remained calm.
“If you treat the entire house like suspects, you'll destroy what little trust remains.”
Victor turned.
“Someone downloaded my son's trauma file.”
“I know.”
“So spare me the management lecture.”
Marco stepped closer.
“And if the person wants exactly this?”
Victor paused.
“Exactly what?”
“Chaos.”
The word settled between them.
Marco pointed toward the ceiling.
“Harper leaves. Finn runs. You panic. Everyone gets investigated. Staff turn on each other. Schedules collapse.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“You think her leaving was engineered?”
“No.”
Victor almost looked disappointed.
Marco continued.
“I think somebody got lucky.”
Harper slept badly.
Her temporary apartment belonged to her older cousin Melanie, who was working in Seattle for three months and had offered the place without questions.
It was small.
Quiet.
Safe.
And at 4:10 a.m., Harper woke because she could have sworn she heard Finn scream.
She sat upright.
Dark room.
No Finn.
No mansion.
No responsibility.
Harper pressed both palms over her face.
Her phone showed fourteen unread messages.
Most were from Mrs. Alvarez.
Finn ate half a grilled cheese.
Finn asked if you still like dinosaurs.
Finn asked whether you left because of him.
That one hurt.
Harper responded.
Tell him absolutely not. I left because adults sometimes need boundaries.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Rosa replied:
He asked what boundaries are.
Harper smiled.
Tell him they're invisible fences for feelings.
Mrs. Alvarez:
He says that makes no sense.
Harper:
Tell him he's right.
She was still smiling when another message arrived.
Unknown number.
She opened it.
A photograph loaded.
Finn.
Walking through the service gate that morning.
Alone.
Taken from outside the Rossi property.
Harper stopped breathing.
A message followed.
You should have stayed gone.
Harper stared at the screen.
Another photograph.
This one was older.
Harper and Finn leaving his therapy clinic six weeks earlier.
Then another.
Harper at a playground.
Finn beside her.
Someone had been photographing them.
Her fingers went cold.
The phone rang.
Unknown number.
Harper answered without thinking.
Silence.
“Who is this?”
A distorted voice replied.
“You mattered more than you knew.”
The call ended.
Harper immediately dialed Victor.
He answered before the first ring completed.
“Harper?”
Someone must have told him never to sound relieved when answering her.
He failed.
“Someone sent me photographs.”
Silence.
Then Victor's voice changed.
“Of what?”
“Finn. Me. Different days.”
“Don't move.”
“Victor—”
“Do not leave the apartment.”
“You don't know where—”
“I know where you are.”
Harper closed her eyes.
“You said you removed the tracking.”
“I did.”
“Then how?”
“Marco.”
“You people are insane.”
“We can discuss privacy after you're not being threatened.”
“He said I should have stayed gone.”
Victor went silent.
“He?”
“The voice sounded male. Distorted.”
“Send me everything.”
Harper forwarded the messages.
Victor said something away from the phone.
Doors opened on his end.
“Harper.”
“What?”
“Is the door locked?”
“Yes.”
“Windows?”
“Third floor.”
“Answer the question.”
“Yes.”
“Do not open the door for anyone.”
“I am not helpless.”
“I know.”
That answer surprised her.
Victor continued.
“But somebody has been watching you and my son.”
“You think this is connected to the school file?”
“Yes.”
“What aren't you telling me?”
A pause.
Harper's heartbeat accelerated.
“Victor.”
“Elena's crash may have been intentional.”
Harper closed her eyes.
“Marco told me.”
“I'll kill him.”
“Don't.”
“That was not information he had permission to share.”
“Maybe that's part of your problem.”
Victor went quiet.
“Everybody needs permission from you to tell the truth.”
He didn't respond.
Harper continued.
“You can't control what people know forever.”
“No. But I can control who uses my family's pain against them.”
“Can you?”
It was harsh.
Harper regretted it immediately.
Victor didn't retaliate.
“No,” he said finally. “Apparently I can't.”
A knock sounded at Harper's door.
She froze.
Victor heard it.
“Harper?”
Another knock.
Three measured taps.
“Someone's here.”
“Do not open it.”
“I know.”
Victor barked orders into the room around him.
Harper moved silently toward the door.
She looked through the peephole.
An elderly man stood in the hallway holding a brown envelope.
“Who is it?” Victor demanded.
“Older man. Gray coat.”
“Back away.”
The man looked directly into the peephole.
Harper's skin crawled.
Then he bent and slid the envelope beneath the door.
He walked away.
“Harper?”
“He left something.”
“Don't touch it.”
Harper stared at the envelope.
A name had been written across the front.
ELENA ROSSI.
Her stomach dropped.
“Victor.”
“What?”
“It has your wife's name on it.”
Silence.
A different kind of silence.
“What did you say?”
“Elena Rossi.”
Victor inhaled slowly.
“Get away from the door.”
“Why?”
His next words were almost a whisper.
“Because Elena received an envelope exactly like that three days before she died.”
Victor reached the apartment in nineteen minutes.
Harper knew because she timed him.
He entered with Marco and two specialists wearing gloves.
Victor barely looked at Harper before moving toward the envelope.
“Don't.”
One of the specialists opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Elena Rossi leaving a restaurant.
Date stamp: October 14, five years earlier.
On the back:
SHE SHOULD HAVE KEPT QUIET.
A second photograph showed Harper walking Finn to school.
On the back:
SO SHOULD YOU.
Victor's face became terrifyingly blank.
Harper had learned that his anger was loudest when his expression disappeared.
“What did Elena know?” she asked.
Victor didn't answer.
“Victor.”
Marco looked at him.
“It matters now.”
Victor walked toward the window.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then he turned.
“My brother stole from me.”
Harper frowned.
“Your brother?”
“Gabriel.”
“I thought you were an only child.”
“That's what newspapers say.”
Marco shut the door.
Victor continued.
“Gabriel was older. Smarter than me in some ways. Less patient in others.”
“What happened?”
“He moved money from businesses that weren't his to touch. Then he started selling information.”
“To police?”
“To rivals.”
Harper stared.
“Elena discovered it.”
Victor's voice lost something.
Hardness, perhaps.
“She found records in a property account. She came to me.”
“And?”
“I didn't believe her.”
The sentence surprised Harper.
Victor looked down.
“I told her Gabriel was family.”
Harper said nothing.
“Three days later, her car was hit.”
“And Gabriel?”
“Disappeared the same night.”
“You think he killed her?”
“I think he ordered it.”
“Was he ever found?”
Victor looked at her.
“No.”
A chill crawled across Harper's arms.
“Then maybe he isn't gone.”
Marco's phone buzzed.
He read the message.
His face changed.
“Victor.”
“What?”
“We found the login source.”
Victor waited.
“It originated inside the mansion.”
Harper looked between them.
Marco continued.
“Your private network.”
“Which device?”
Marco swallowed.
“Finn's playroom tablet.”
Harper felt sick.
Somebody had been inside the house.
Close enough to use Finn's own tablet.
Close enough to know Harper was gone.
May you like
Close enough to watch a grieving five-year-old walk out the gate.
And possibly close enough to do far worse.
