Chapter 2 - THE ACCOUNT THAT DELETED ELEVEN MINUTES
Victor carried Ethan instead of asking me to.
I was grateful.
My stomach still hurt every time I inhaled.
Ethan whimpered when Victor adjusted him against his chest.
“Easy, buddy.”
Victor barely touched the injured arm.
Even that was enough.
Ethan cried.
Serena stood several feet away.
“You’re making him worse.”
Victor looked at her.
“Go to the sitting room.”
Her face tightened.
“What?”
“I need space.”
“This is my home too.”
“I said I need space.”
Serena laughed once.
Cold.
“You don’t order me out of rooms.”
Victor didn’t raise his voice.
“Right now I do.”
Something in his tone worked.
Serena walked away.
But not before looking at me.
The look lasted only a second.
It said everything.
This was my fault.
Whatever came next would be my fault too.
Victor brought Ethan into the smaller family room beside the foyer.
I followed slowly.
“Should we take him somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
He had already called the pediatric orthopedic service his family used.
A physician was on the way because Ethan became hysterical whenever Victor tried to move the arm.
Until then, we were told to keep it supported and avoid unnecessary movement.
Victor sat with his son on his lap.
I knelt nearby.
Ethan reached toward me.
“Caya.”
That was what he called me.
He couldn’t say Claire when I started working for the family.
The name stayed.
Victor looked at me.
“What happened before I came in?”
I told him exactly.
No embellishment.
No assumptions.
I told him Serena had been dragging Ethan by one arm.
I told him I shouted.
I told him she released him and kicked me.
I told him I crawled toward Ethan.
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“Did you touch Serena?”
“No.”
“Before that?”
“I hadn’t seen her since breakfast.”
Victor nodded.
He believed me.
Or wanted to.
I wasn’t sure which frightened me more.
“What happened this morning?”
I told him about Ethan resisting when I put on his shirt.
The swelling.
Serena’s explanation about the crib.
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“You didn’t call me.”
“I was going to.”
“You should have.”
“I know.”
The words hurt because he was right.
I had accepted Serena’s explanation for too long.
Not because I trusted her.
Because I had trained myself to avoid being accused of overstepping.
Victor looked toward the hallway.
“Serena has spent months telling me you worry too much.”
I laughed softly.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“She tells me too.”
His expression changed.
“What else does she tell you?”
I hesitated.
“Claire.”
“That Ethan needs to stop being babied.”
His eyes hardened.
“What does that mean?”
“She thinks I pick him up too quickly when he cries.”
“He’s two.”
“I know.”
“Anything else?”
“She says he needs discipline.”
“What kind?”
“I’ve never seen her hit him.”
That mattered.
I would not accuse Serena of something I had not witnessed.
“But?”
Victor heard the hesitation.
“He’s afraid of certain rooms.”
“What rooms?”
“The east hall.”
Victor frowned.
“There’s nothing there except the old nursery and storage.”
“I know.”
“Has Serena taken him there?”
“I don’t know.”
Victor stared at Ethan.
His son had fallen quiet now.
Not asleep.
Just exhausted.
I remembered the way he sometimes said “no red” when Serena wore certain dresses.
I had assumed toddler nonsense.
Serena wore burgundy today.
I pushed the thought away.
Evidence first.
Victor placed Ethan gently beside me and opened the security application again.
He entered the administrative logs.
Three accounts.
VBLACKWOOD.
SERENA.B.
GMERCER.
Graham Mercer.
Victor’s estate attorney.
I knew the name.
Everyone at Blackwood Manor did.
Graham had represented the family since before Victor inherited the estate.
The deletion log showed:
4:55 p.m.
FOYER_CAM_01 — footage manually purged.
User:
VBLACKWOOD.
Victor stared at his own username.
“That’s impossible.”
“Could someone know your password?”
“No.”
“Serena?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“My administrator account requires a hardware key.”
He reached into his suit pocket.
A small black device hung from his keys.
“It has to be physically connected to authorize deletion.”
“Could somebody have copied it?”
“Not easily.”
He looked at the time.
4:55.
Two minutes after he entered the foyer.
He had been standing with us when the footage was deleted.
The physical key was in his pocket.
I watched Victor’s face change.
“If my account deleted it while this was with me, someone cloned the authentication.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means this wasn’t panic.”
His voice became colder.
“Someone planned to be able to erase my cameras.”
A door opened behind us.
Serena.
She had returned.
“Or maybe your system is broken.”
Victor locked his phone.
“I told you to stay in the sitting room.”
“I heard Graham’s name.”
I looked at her.
So she had been listening.
Victor noticed too.
“I didn’t say his name loudly.”
Serena’s expression shifted.
“I saw it on your screen.”
From the hallway?
Impossible.
Victor stood.
“Where is your phone?”
“In my purse.”
“Get it.”
She laughed.
“No.”
“Serena.”
“You’re not searching my things because Claire invented a story.”
Victor looked at me.
Then back at her.
“Where were you at 4:55?”
“With you.”
“No. You walked toward the west sitting room.”
“So?”
“Your administrator account wasn’t used.”
She smiled slightly.
“Exactly.”
“Mine was.”
That smile faded.
Victor continued.
“And someone prepared enough to impersonate me before today.”
Serena crossed her arms.
“You’ve had business enemies your entire life.”
“Business enemies don’t care whether eleven minutes disappear from my foyer.”
Silence.
The doorbell rang.
The physician had arrived.
Victor looked at me.
“Stay with Ethan.”
Serena stepped forward.
“I’m going too.”
Ethan heard her voice.
His entire body stiffened against mine.
Victor saw it.
So did Serena.
May you like
And this time she could not blame a broken security camera.
📖 Read what Ethan’s medical examination revealed about his injured arm—and why the doctor said the damage could not have happened in the foyer in CHAPTER 3. 👇
