Chapter 6 - Shadows and Lenses
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The mansion fell dead silent by midnight. I sat in the darkness of the guest room, listening to the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock down the hall. At 1:00 AM, I slid off the bed, removed my shoes, and pulled my phone from my robe.
Moving with silent, practiced precision, I slipped out of the room. I wasn't just a mother seeking justice anymore; I was a investigator conducting a midnight raid.
My first stop was the frame of Clara’s bedroom door. In the dim light of my phone screen, I examined the strike plate. The wood around the latch was splintered, with clear stress fractures in the paint. Someone had forced this door open against heavy resistance. I took six high-resolution, time-stamped photographs from multiple angles.
Next, I slipped into Clara’s private bathroom. Deep inside the wastebasket beneath layers of tissue paper, I found three intact prenatal vitamins. They had been discarded, covered in a sticky residue. A quick photo documented the evidence of forced medication tampering.
As I stood in the hallway, my phone vibrated silently in my hand. It was a text message from Clara:
Bookcase lens. Upper corner by the study. Everett checks the live feed from his laptop.
I looked up toward the mahogany bookshelf at the end of the corridor. Nestled between two leather-bound encyclopedia volumes was a tiny, dark glass bead—a high-end, pinhole surveillance camera.
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I didn't turn away. Instead, I walked right up to the lens, stood directly in its field of view, and looked straight into the camera. A slow, cold smile spread across my face.
Everett thought his hidden camera system was a tool to spy on his victims. The foolish boy didn't realize that by installing a centralized digital security system, he had created an automated court reporter that logged every single crime committed inside this house.
