Chapter 4 - The Surveillance Trap
The heavy mahogany doors of the mansion’s security office were locked from the inside, a thin sliver of fluorescent light bleeding out from beneath the crack. Arthur walked down the long, dimly lit corridor with Sophie trailing a few paces behind him, her bandaged arm throbbing with every step. Victoria had vanished into the west wing the moment Arthur turned his back, her retreat swift and calculated.
"Wait here," Arthur instructed, stopping just short of the heavy oak door.
"No, Mr. Morel, you don't understand," Sophie whispered urgently, grabbing the edge of his black suit jacket. "The guard inside, Marcus... he answers directly to Victoria. If you walk in there alone without proof, they will lock down the estate, claim you had another one of your stress-induced episodes, and sedate you just like they did to your mother."
Arthur looked down at Sophie’s hand on his sleeve. The young woman was barely twenty-two, hired only three months ago through an agency in the city, yet she possessed a chilling awareness of the household's darkest machinations that even he, the sole heir and nominal master of the estate, had missed.
"How do you know about my episodes?" Arthur asked, his voice dangerously soft.
Sophie hesitated, her eyes dropping to the floor. "Because I found the medical logs in the incinerator room last Tuesday. Prescriptions for heavy sedatives, signed by Dr. Vance—prescribed to you, not your mother."
A cold dread pooled in the pit of Arthur’s stomach. For months, he had suffered from brain fog, memory gaps, and terrifying bouts of exhaustion that left him bedridden for days at a time. He had trusted Victoria implicitly to manage his estate, his business affairs, and his ailing mother's care while he fought to keep the family shipping empire afloat.
Before Arthur could process the revelation, the security door clicked open. Marcus, a burly man in a crisp gray uniform with a scar running across his left jawline, stepped out into the hallway. His eyes swept over Arthur and lingered with blatant disrespect on Sophie.
"Mr. Morel," Marcus said, not bothering to conceal the mockery in his tone. "Working late, are we? Or did you wander down here because you forgot your way back to your bedroom again?"
Arthur stepped forward, towering over the guard. "Step aside, Marcus. I need to review the foyer camera feeds from the last hour."
Marcus didn't move an inch. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, blocking the entrance completely. "I'm afraid I can't do that, sir. Standard protocol. Miss Victoria gave strict orders that the system is down for routine maintenance. No one enters the control room tonight."
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Arthur’s hand dropped instinctively to his side, his fingers curling into a tight fist. He could smell the stale coffee and cheap cigars drifting from inside the room. Through the slightly ajar door, the soft blue glow of multiple computer monitors flickered against the wall. But it wasn't the glowing screens that caught Arthur’s attention; it was the faint, muffled sound of a woman crying for help coming directly from the open intercom speaker on Marcus's desk.
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