Watched

Sloane’s hands trembled as she locked the sitting room door behind her. The white camellias in the crystal vase looked like an accusation and dawn light slipped through the curtains leaving everything pale, she had only fifteen minutes before Damon brought the car around.

Check the flowers, there’s something inside.

She lifted the vase and tipped it over the sink as water and stems spilled out along with a small plastic-wrapped package, she stood still.

It was matchbox-sized and sealed in waterproof film with a USB drive and a folded note inside, the message written in blocky anonymous capitals letters:

YOU HAVE EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO DESTROY HIM BUT IF YOU USE IT, HE WILL KNOW AND THE BODYGUARD REPORTS DIRECTLY TO NATHANIEL. TRUST NO ONE.

Her pulse roared in her ears as she unwrapped the drive and plugged it into her laptop, glancing at the locked door.

The files opened showing financial records, emails and legal documents. Her name appeared again and again.

Sloane Vance – Asset Liquidation Timeline, Marital Termination Strategy, and Trust Fund Activation Requirements.

Then the photographs loaded, dozens of them showing her at cafés, at the gym, and in her office. All the timestamps were from the past six months long before Nathaniel mentioned hiring security. 

A knock sounded.

“Mrs. Blackwell?” Damon said calmly. “The car is ready.”

Startled, She cleared her browser history, she slammed the laptop shut, pulled out the USB drive, and hid it in her bra. “One moment.” She said and hurriedly fixed the flowers with shaking hands.

When she opened the door, Damon stood in the hallway in his charcoal suit, looking at her.

“You look unwell,” he said. “Should I notify Mr. Blackwell you’re staying home?”

“I’m fine,” She lied uncomfortably. “Let’s go.”

The fabric consultation passed in a blur as Margot fussed over silks, Sloane nodded absently, distracted by the USB drive pressing against her ribs.

She needed help from someone Nathaniel couldn’t control, like a lawyer or a journalist.

Her college roommate, Jessica, worked as an investigative reporter in Boston. If anyone could—

“Mrs. Blackwell.”

Damon stood behind her shoulder.

“Mr. Blackwell prefers you not conduct personal business during professional appointments.”

She turned slowly. “He prefers?”

“It’s in my briefing notes,” Damon said. “All unapproved calls must be reported to him for verification.”

“And if I want to call someone who isn’t approved?”

“I would need to inform Mr. Blackwell before the call is placed, it’s protocol.”

Frustrated, she slid the phone back into her purse. “Of course, protocol.”

By evening, her desperation turned into determination. Nathaniel was in Singapore, and she had only one night.

“I’m going to work in the study,” she said when they returned home. “You can have the night off.”

“I’m afraid not, I have to report twenty-four-hour detail.” Damon took off his jacket, showing the shoulder holster. “I will be in the monitor room.”

“How thoughtful,” she said. “Does Nathaniel watch too, or is that just your hobby?”

Damon couldn’t hide his reaction for the first time, he tightened his fists.

“I don’t enjoy this,” he said quietly. “But I follow orders.”

“Or what?”

He stepped closer. “Or things become more difficult.”

She realized then, he wasn’t just protecting her but also controlling her.

At eleven, she walked into Nathaniel’s office with her laptop bag on her shoulder and a USB drive in her hand, the door unlocked easily.

The computer turned on, but every password she tried was wrong; the wedding date, her birthday, even his father’s name.

“Looking for something?”

She turned.

Damon stood in the doorway.

“I needed something for tomorrow’s meeting,” she said.

“Eleven at night?” He closed the door. “Try again.”

“This isn’t your business.”

“Everything you do is my business.” He looked down at her hand.  “What’s that?”

“Nothing.” 

“Show me.”

“No,” she said, trying to hide it.

They stood a few feet apart. She noticed the scar on his brow and smelled cedar mixed with something else.

“I can make you,” he said.

She shrugged and said, “I can scream—Mrs. Adler is just two floors down.”

His control snapped. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Then help me.”

He almost did but his phone buzzed, he stepped back and read it.

“Mr. Blackwell just came through the gate,” he said. “Security flagged the office door.”

Fear surged through her. “He’s supposed to be in Singapore.”

“Not anymore.” Damond said.

Footsteps came from downstairs, and Nathaniel called, “Sloane? Darling?”

Damon stretched out his hand. “Give me the drive, now.”

She hesitated, then dropped it into his palm.

“Stay here, let me handle this.” He said and left.

Minutes later, his voice hovered from the hall:

“Don’t worry sir, false alarm on the office sensor. Mrs. Blackwell went to bed hours ago.”

"You're certain?" Nathaniel's voice, closer now.

"Absolutely. I have eyes on all feeds, the house is secure."

“Good,” Nathaniel said. “Don’t bother us. I have a surprise for my wife.”

Sloane ran.

She barely made it into bed when Nathaniel knocked and came in with champagne and a smile.

 “Happy anniversary. I have something for you.”

He opened a velvet box and inside was a diamond bracelet with a small charm hanging from it: a calendar date. The 28th.

The day everything changes,” he said, smiling. “I sped up my father’s estate, settling in three days instead two weeks. So”—he slipped the bracelet onto her wrist—“we celebrate us… now.”

“I’ve invited the family to the The Gables this weekend,” he added. “A proper anniversary party.”

“Of course,” she whispered.

“You always understand, that’s why I chose you. You’re so… compliant.” He kissed her and left.

She waited until his footsteps faded and the house grew silent. Then she stared at the closed door, knowing Damon was on the other side with the only evidence that could save her and she has no idea whose side he’s on.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown: He moved the timeline. The bracelet is a tracker, don’t take it off. I’m sorry, it’s going to get worse.

Sloane sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at the flat champagne in its glass without touching it.

She slowly turned the bracelet and watched the diamonds shine in the lamplight as her thumb touched the small charm.

The bracelet sparkled with every twist of her wrist, casting pale shapes on the ceiling. She watched them until they faded. Sleep came, but it didn’t last.