Chapter 6 - The Deleted Entry at 2:41
Getting off the bed took nearly a minute.
I moved slowly, one hand braced against the mattress, the other pressed to my ribs. My ankle would not take my full weight. My shoulder hung wrong enough that I stopped trying to lift my right arm.
The tablet sat ten feet away.
I crossed the room by holding onto furniture.
Chair.
Dresser.
Wall.
Each step made my vision pulse.
When I finally reached the tablet, the screen had dimmed but not locked.
The security dashboard filled the display.
Courtyard Camera 3.
Balcony Camera 2.
Front Gate.
Kitchen Hall.
Garden East.
I tapped the courtyard log.
The most recent entry showed the impact event at 3:17 p.m.
Thirty seconds later: REMOTE SESSION—GUEST ADMIN—C.S.
One minute later: EXPORT REQUEST.
Then a blank space.
I scrolled upward.
At 2:41 p.m., a line appeared in gray.
COURTYARD ZONE MANUALLY DISABLED.
User: B.CARTER.
Brandon.
Not a malfunction.
Not routine privacy.
His account.
His action.
Thirty-six minutes before he pushed me.
Below it was another entry.
BALCONY MICROPHONE DISABLED.
Same user.
Same minute.
My stomach turned.
He had shut off both the camera zone and the microphone.
That meant he had expected something to happen on that balcony that he did not want recorded.
I tapped the entry details.
A small note appeared.
CONFIGURATION CHANGE SYNCHRONIZED TO CLOUD—PENDING LOCAL CONFIRMATION.
The system had tried to push the change to its cloud controller but had not completed it. That explained the blinking light after the impact.
Brandon thought he had disabled the camera locally.
The cloud configuration had never confirmed the change.
The impact sensor had forced a short emergency recording anyway.
I took a screenshot with the tablet.
Then I froze.
A screenshot stored on the same device would be useless if Brandon erased it.
I searched the share options.
Email was locked.
Messages required a passcode.
But the tablet's notes app was open without authentication.
I copied the access log into a new note, then added the exact times and the initials C.S.
It was not safe, but it was something.
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
I put the tablet down and started back toward the bed.
Too slow.
The lock clicked.
I dropped into the nearest chair just as the door opened.
A woman in a gray house uniform stepped inside carrying a first-aid case.
Nora Bell.
She had managed the villa staff since before I married Brandon. She was in her late fifties, practical, quiet, and usually impossible to surprise.
Now her face went pale when she saw me.
"Mrs. Carter."
"Close the door."
She did.
Her eyes moved to my shoulder, my swollen ankle, the blood at my mouth.
"They said you fell."
"He pushed me."
Nora did not gasp.
She looked toward the hallway.
Then she whispered, "I know."
I forgot the pain for half a second.
"What?"
"I was in the pantry under the balcony. I heard you scream."
She put the first-aid case down.
"And before that, I heard Mr. Carter arguing with someone on the phone."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Her hands trembled as she opened the case.
"But he said, 'She brought the evidence. If she refuses the transfer, we do it today.'"
I stared at her.
Nora swallowed.
"Then another voice came through the speaker."
"What did it say?"
She looked at the locked door.
May you like
"Make sure she can't walk out with it."
📖 Find out what Nora heard before Emma was pushed—and why the unknown voice on Brandon's call may connect directly to Caleb Sloan in CHAPTER 7. 👇
