Chapter 4 - THE CAMERA THAT WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO RECORDI had faced hostile investors, lawsuits, and business failures.
I had watched millions disappear from my company's valuation in a single afternoon.
But nothing had ever frightened me quite like that message.
Not because it threatened me.
Because it threatened Grace.
I took a screenshot and immediately sent it to my attorney, Marisol Vega.
Marisol had handled several difficult matters for my company, and unlike many lawyers in my social circle, she had never confused loyalty with telling clients what they wanted to hear.
She called within a minute.
"Nathan, where are you?"
"At home."
"Are the people in the photograph safe?"
"For now."
"Call the police. Preserve the messages, and don't confront anyone alone."
I looked through the window.
Vivian was still drinking coffee.
"I think someone inside the house helped the person who sent them."
"Then especially don't confront anyone alone."
"I have security."
"Security didn't prevent that SUV from entering, did it?"
She was right.
I hated that she was right.
I asked Marcus to preserve the gate records and restrict access to the property.
Then I called the local sheriff's office and reported the threats.
While we waited for a deputy, I returned to the kitchen.
Vivian looked up with a cheerful smile.
"Good morning again."
I remained near the doorway.
"Did you have a visitor last night?"
Her smile faded slightly.
"What?"
"At 2:11 a.m., someone used your guest credentials to open my gate."
She set down her cup.
"I don't remember that."
"Check your phone."
"Why are you interrogating me?"
"Because someone threatened a woman who's staying on this property."
Vivian's expression changed.
"Is this about your cook again?"
"Her name is Grace."
She rolled her eyes.
"Nathan, you're making a ridiculous mistake."
"Answer the question."
Vivian crossed her arms.
"Fine. My father sent someone to drop off medication. I couldn't sleep, and I had a terrible headache."
"Why didn't the driver come to the front door?"
"I don't know."
"Why did the vehicle go behind the house?"
"Maybe the driver got confused."
"Vivian."
"What?"
"You're a terrible liar."
She slammed her coffee cup onto the counter.
"You know what your problem is? You think that woman is some kind of angel!"
I stared at her.
"No. I think she's a human being who deserves basic respect."
"Then explain why she was sneaking around Eli's room!"
"She was helping an injured woman."
Vivian went completely still.
For one brief moment, her carefully practiced expression disappeared.
It was replaced by something close to panic.
"An injured woman?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
I watched her.
"Why do you need to know?"
She recovered quickly.
"Because you've turned this entire house upside down over a stranger."
I took a step closer.
"Did your father know someone was staying in Eli's room?"
Vivian's eyes narrowed.
"Don't bring my father into this."
"Then tell me who came through my gate."
"I already told you."
"Did you?"
She looked away.
I knew then that arguing would accomplish nothing.
People like Vivian didn't confess because they were confronted with logic.
They confessed when they ran out of places to hide.
"I've asked the police to investigate," I said.
She stiffened.
"You called the police?"
"Yes."
"Over this?"
"Over a death threat."
Vivian stared at me as though I had betrayed her.
Then she grabbed her phone.
"I'm calling my father."
"Go ahead."
She walked out of the kitchen.
I watched her disappear into the hallway.
A few minutes later, Grace entered through the back door.
She had changed into a clean sweater and was carrying a small pharmacy bag.
"Nathan?"
I turned.
"Where's Leah?"
"With Eli. The clinic confirmed she has bruised ribs and a sprained ankle. They're arranging additional imaging."
I nodded.
"Good."
Grace studied me.
"Something happened."
I showed her the threatening messages.
She read them without speaking.
By the time she finished, the color had drained from her face.
"They know about my mother."
"Yes."
She handed the phone back.
"Then they're scared."
I frowned.
"Scared?"
"People don't threaten strangers over old rumors. They threaten them when they're afraid the truth might come out."
I wanted to tell her she was brave.
Instead, I asked something I should have asked long before.
"Why did you really come to work for me?"
She remained silent.
"Grace, I need to understand."
She placed the pharmacy bag on the counter.
"I needed a job. That part was real."
"And the rest?"
"My mother left me a box of her personal papers. Most were ordinary things—bills, photographs, recipes, letters."
She paused.
"But there was a page from an old notebook."
"What did it say?"
"Richard Reed knows where the records are."
I felt something cold settle inside my chest.
"My father?"
Grace nodded.
"I thought he might have kept something that could clear my mother's name."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know whether you would destroy it if I did."
The answer hurt.
But I couldn't call it unreasonable.
She had lost her mother.
My family's organization had helped destroy that woman's reputation.
And I had spent years admiring the people who might have been responsible.
"I haven't found anything," she continued. "I've never opened your locked files, and I wouldn't take something that wasn't mine. But I hoped that if I worked here, I might learn who my mother trusted."
"Did you?"
"Not until Leah called."
I pulled out a chair.
"Sit down."
She hesitated.
"I'm supposed to prepare breakfast."
"Forget breakfast."
"But—"
"Grace, people are threatening your life. I can survive making my own toast."
For the first time that morning, she almost smiled.
Then she sat.
I opened the security application again.
There were four outdoor cameras covering the main house, three around the garage, and two facing the staff cottage.
I selected the camera above the cottage entrance.
The footage showed Grace entering Eli's room at 11:43 p.m.
Vivian had apparently been correct about that much.
At 12:06, Grace emerged carrying towels.
At 12:19, she returned with a bowl.
At 1:08, she left again.
Then something strange happened.
The timestamp jumped from 1:08 to 2:26.
I leaned closer.
"That's odd."
Grace moved beside me.
"What?"
"The camera skipped more than an hour."
"Maybe it malfunctioned."
"Maybe."
I checked the other feeds.
The pool camera showed a brief flash of headlights at 2:12 a.m.
Then its image went black.
The garage camera continued recording normally.
I opened the system's maintenance history.
One entry caught my attention.
Remote administrator login.
The time was 1:07 a.m.
I opened the account information.
My father's old administrative credentials had been used.
That account should have been disabled years earlier.
I called Marcus.
"Did anyone access the camera system last night?"
"Not from the security office, sir."
"What about remotely?"
"Only authorized administrators can do that."
"How many are there?"
"You, me, and the legacy account your father used."
"Who knows that password?"
Marcus hesitated.
"Your father shared it with Mr. Cross when they installed the system."
I closed my eyes.
Victor.
Of course.
He had helped design the estate's security arrangements.
Suddenly, I remembered something Vivian said when she arrived.
This old house has too many secrets, Nathan.
At the time, I assumed she was making conversation.
Now I wondered whether she had been warning me.
Grace touched my arm.
"Nathan?"
I looked at her.
"I think someone deliberately erased the footage."
She swallowed.
"Why?"
"To hide whoever visited the cottage."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then my phone rang.
It was Marisol.
"I've started checking the public records on the Marsh Point fire," she said.
"And?"
"Nathan, the documents don't match the story your family told."
My pulse quickened.
"What do you mean?"
"The initial fire investigator reported evidence that someone had deliberately started the blaze."
I gripped the counter.
"Then why was it ruled accidental?"
"Because a revised report was submitted four days later."
"By whom?"
Marisol hesitated.
"That is where things become interesting."
"Tell me."
"The revised report identified Clara Ellis as a possible suspect. It suggested she had destroyed records to conceal financial misconduct."
Grace was watching my face.
I could barely speak.
"Was there evidence?"
"Nothing conclusive that I can find. And Nathan..."
Marisol lowered her voice.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"The original investigator filed a formal objection. He claimed the evidence had been altered."
"Who was the investigator?"
"His name was August Bell."
"Can we speak to him?"
A long silence followed.
May you like
Then Marisol said something I wasn't prepared to hear.
"According to the official records, August Bell died eleven years ago. But someone using his identification number accessed that fire report yesterday."
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