CHAPTER TWO — THE MORETTI MANSION

Elara locked the bedroom door behind her and sat still for several seconds, fingers pressed against her forehead. The note on her lap felt heavier than paper. She kept reading the words as though they might rearrange themselves into something less threatening.

Your husband built an empire of enemies.

You’ll be the first to fall.

She let out a shaky breath and stood. Sitting only made her thoughts louder. She needed movement. Logic. Something to anchor herself.

She opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The mansion lights were dimmed to their nighttime settings, soft glows that lined the floor edges, enough to see but not enough to make the house feel welcoming.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Moretti,” the AI announced from the ceiling panel.

The greeting felt late, almost delayed. She frowned.

“I’ve been home,” she muttered.

“Apologies,” the voice responded, though AI apologies never sounded sincere. “System recalibrating.”

Elara walked down the hallway, her footsteps echoing slightly. She didn’t like how the sound bounced back to her, as though the house had doubled in size while she was gone. She passed one of the service bots positioned near the wall. It didn’t move. Its posture looked too stiff, even for a machine.

“Unit Four,” she said.

No response.

She stepped closer and waved a hand in front of it. Still nothing.

“System,” she called.

“Yes, Mrs. Moretti?”

“Why is Unit Four facing the wrong direction?”

“Unit Four is in rest mode.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Unit Four has entered rest mode,” the system repeated.

Her jaw tightened. She took a step back, resisting the urge to kick the robot just to prove a point.

The house system suffered glitches sometimes, but tonight everything felt… off. The delayed greeting. The unresponsive bot. The dimness of the lights. The faint hum in the walls she couldn’t place.

Her eyes drifted toward the security panel near the stairs. She walked to it, tapped the screen, and waited as it loaded. The system map bloomed across the touchscreen, rooms, doors, cameras.

Everything is green.

Everything is normal.

Everything is lying.

She backed away from the panel and moved downstairs.

The robots in the living area were moving dishes to the kitchen, their motions unnervingly synchronized. She watched one place a glass on a tray with perfect precision, yet something in that perfection felt wrong tonight. Maybe it was the stillness, the absence of any real human presence.

She approached the nearest bot.

“Did anyone else come in tonight?” she asked.

The bot didn’t answer at first. It simply stood there, a glass in one hand, tray in the other, frozen mid-task. Then, mechanically, “No entries logged.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

She studied its blank faceplate for a moment, then took the glass gently from its cold fingers and set it aside. The bot resumed its work without acknowledging her.

Her stomach tightened. She turned away and headed toward Damon’s office.

The door was ajar.

She stopped short.

Damon never left this door open. Ever. It was the one rule he didn’t have to say out loud, because the man was predictable in his need for control. If he breathed inside a room, he locked it behind him.

She reached for the door and pushed it open.

The room wasn’t messy. It wasn’t ransacked. It was exactly as Damon kept it, tidy, organized, and almost sterile, except for one thing.

The safe’s panel light glowed faintly.

She froze in the doorway.

Her heart beat against her ribs, sharp and fast, like it was trying to warn her. She walked forward slowly, keeping her eyes on the safe.

Its door hung open an inch.

She crouched in front of it. Her fingers hovered above the edge of the door, afraid to touch it, afraid to confirm it wasn’t her imagination.

She finally pushed it open.

Damon’s documents were neatly arranged inside, but there was a visible gap on the right side, a space where something had been removed. She didn’t know what it was, but the space looked too deliberate to be accidental.

She sat back on her heels.

“System,” she whispered.

“Yes, Mrs. Moretti?”

“Who accessed the safe today?”

“No entries logged.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No entries logged,” it repeated.

Elara clenched her jaw. “Show me the access history.”

“Access history unavailable.”

Her lips parted. “Unavailable?”

“Yes.”

She stood slowly, palms sweating. Access history was never unavailable. Damon paid enough money to ensure the system recorded even the faintest whisper near this safe.

She turned toward the desk and scanned its surface. Nothing unusual. She opened the drawers one by one. All empty. Damon kept everything digital now. Even handwritten notes were rare.

She stepped to the bookshelf on the right. A faint mark on the wooden floor caught her eye. She crouched again.

A smudge. Dirty. Uneven.

Someone had stepped right here.

She reached out and touched it lightly. It wasn’t dust. It felt like grit.

Whoever entered hadn’t bothered to wipe their shoes.

She stood and backed up quickly, scanning the room. Her breathing grew shallow. Even though she saw no one, she felt watched. Or like someone had been standing in this exact spot only minutes earlier.

Her phone buzzed.

She jumped, then fumbled it out of her purse. A new message? A warning? Another anonymous number?

She checked the screen.

A news alert.

Just that.

She exhaled shakily and silenced her phone.

When she looked up again, something else caught her attention.

The window.

It wasn’t fully shut. Just slightly cracked.

Her heartbeat thudded painfully.

She approached slowly. Her fingers brushed the frame. The lock had been loosened from the inside. Someone had opened this window, either to enter… or exit.

She swallowed hard.

She pushed it closed carefully and relocked it, then stepped back.

“System,” she said. Her voice shook. “Scan for recent movement in this room.”

The AI paused, almost too long.

“No movement detected.”

A chill ran through her arms.

She moved toward the door.

Something crunched softly under her shoe.

She stopped and looked down.

A tiny shard of black plastic.

She knelt, picked it up, and examined it. It looked like a broken piece of a small device. Maybe a pen. Maybe a USB casing. Too small to identify.

But it definitely wasn’t from Damon.

She slipped it into her pocket.

Her legs felt weak as she left the room. She pulled the door shut firmly, then locked it from the outside.

She reached the landing of the staircase before realizing she was shaking.

She held onto the railing for support.

Her gaze drifted down the hallway, toward the silent robots standing in their stations. Machines weren’t supposed to be threatening, but tonight they all looked… wrong. Stiff. Watchful. Too still.

She tried to steady herself. Damon never lost control of his environment. If something was missing from his safe, he already knew. He might even be on a plane right now heading back. Or sending someone. Or planning something.

But if he knew…

why hadn’t he called her?

Her phone buzzed again, this time a call.

Her breath caught.

Unknown number.

She didn’t move.

The call rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

She pressed decline.

Almost immediately, a message appeared.

Did you see it?

Her stomach dropped.

She typed with trembling fingers.

Who are you?

The message failed to send.

The conversation vanished again.

She clutched the phone to her chest.

Something scraped.

A soft, unmistakable sound.

She spun around.

Nothing was there.

But she heard it.

She wasn’t imagining it.

It had come from downstairs.

She gripped the railing tighter.

“System,” she whispered. “Identify the source of that sound.”

“No sound detected.”

Her chest tightened.

She looked back toward Damon’s office.

The note.

The missing item.

The footprints.

The open window.

Someone had been inside the house.

Someone had touched his safe.

Someone had left a message for her.

And the house systems were hiding it.

She moved slowly down the stairs, feeling the tension in every step.

When she reached the bottom, she looked toward the library again.

The safe light was sti

ll glowing faintly in the dark.

Her phone vibrated once more.

This time with a single word.

Found it.

Elara’s breath escaped her in a sharp gasp.

Whoever broke into the safe…

already had what they were looking for.

And they weren’t done with her.