Six weeks earlier, I had upgraded the property’s security system. Although the visible camera hubs stayed in plain sight, the system now stored encrypted, real-time cloud backups even if the local recorder in my study was unplugged. Vanessa had been there for part of the installation, but after five minutes she had walked away, complaining that technical details bored her.
I raised my phone. “What happened with the cameras, Teresa?”
Teresa swallowed. “Last night, Miss Vanessa unplugged the main feed box in the study. She thought it stopped everything from recording.”
Vanessa moved toward me, her eyes wide with panic. “She’s lying!”
I said nothing. I opened the security app and waited several seconds for the cloud server to load.
An alert appeared: Motion Detected — 11:47 AM, exactly when Teresa usually walked to the neighborhood market.
The high-definition footage showed Vanessa entering the staff hallway with a velvet jewelry box—the corridor that led directly to Teresa’s quarters.
A cold feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.
I RETURNED HOME EARLY TO SURPRISE MY FIANCÉE—BUT FOUND OUR HOUSEKEEPER TIED TO A MARBLE COLUMN, SOBBING WHILE MY FIANCÉE HELD A LIGHTER JUST INCHES FROM HER FACE.
