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Sierra’s POV

Planning the party was the hardest thing I ever had to do. My hands would shake when I looked at color swatches for tablecloths. Picking out what flowers to get made me want to scream. Who cared about flowers when someone wanted to steal your kid?

But I did it. I smiled at the party planners. I said “yes” to the silver balloons and “of course” to the live band. I picked a chocolate fountain because Katie loved it. Every time I made a choice, I felt sick. I was building the set for a play where the monster might jump out of the wings.

Louis was different too. He wasn’t just the boss anymore. He was the general. He and Martin turned my pretty party plans into a security map. They put tiny cameras in flower arrangements. They had microphones in the ceiling. Every waiter and valet person was actually a security guard. The whole house was going to be a spider web, and we were the flies sitting right in the middle.

A week before the party, I couldn’t sleep. I got up and went to the kitchen for water. Louis was already there, sitting in the dark.

“Can’t sleep either?” I asked.

“No.” He swirled water in his glass. “I keep thinking about what could go wrong.”

“Me too.” I sat next to him. “What if they don’t come? What if they do something worse instead?”

“Then we keep fighting,” he said. But he sounded tired. “We have to try, Sierra. We can’t live in this cage forever.”

He was right. But knowing that didn’t make it less scary.

The day of the party was sunny and perfect. Of course it was. It felt like a joke.

The house was full of noise and people. Laughing, talking, clinking glasses. Ladies in sparkly dresses. Men in smooth suits. Everyone said the same things. “What a lovely home!” “Katie is so big now!” “You two are so brave.”

I wore a pink dress. I held Louis’s hand. We smiled until my cheeks hurt.

Katie was in heaven. She had a special fancy dress and got to stay up late. She showed all her friends the chocolate fountain. Her laugh rang out over the music. Every time I heard it, I wanted to grab her and run to a locked room. Instead, I just squeezed Louis’s hand tighter.

He was scanning the room. Not like a host. Like a hunter. His eyes moved over every face, every corner. He had a tiny microphone in his ear, and I could see his jaw move a little as he listened to reports from his team.

Nothing. No one suspicious. Just a bunch of rich people having a good time.

I started to feel crazy. Was this all for nothing? Was the ghost even real?

Then, during a slow song, Louis stiffened. His fingers dug into my hand.

“What?” I whispered, still smiling.

“North balcony. Second door. A waiter just went in. He shouldn’t have.”

“Maybe he’s getting more drinks?”

“That’s not the service hallway,” Louis said. His voice was calm, but his eyes were on fire. “Excuse me for a moment, darling.” He kissed my cheek and melted into the crowd.

My heart was a drum solo. I kept talking to the mayor’s wife about schools, but I didn’t hear a word she said. All I could do was watch the door Louis had disappeared through.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

The band started playing a faster song. People were dancing. Katie was running around with a pack of other kids, trailing balloons.

Louis didn’t come back.

I made an excuse and walked away, my smile feeling like cracked plaster. I headed for the north balcony, my heels clicking on the floor.

I pushed the door open. It was a quiet hallway, dark after the bright party. The music was muffled here.

“Louis?” I called softly.

No answer.

I walked further down. A service door was slightly open. I pushed it.

It was a small sitting room, not used much. And there was Louis. He was standing over a man in a waiter’s uniform who was sitting in a chair, looking scared. It wasn’t the ghost. It was a kid, maybe twenty years old.

“Sierra, go back to the party,” Louis said, not looking at me.

“Who is he?”

“Catering staff. He got lost. Didn’t you?” Louis’s voice was low and dangerous as he looked at the kid.

The kid nodded, his eyes huge. “Y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I was looking for the ice bin.”

“The ice is in the opposite direction,” Louis said. “You were looking at the family portraits. Very closely.”

“I… I think your family is nice,” the kid stammered.

Louis stared at him for another long minute. Then he stepped back. “Get back to your station. Don’t wander again.”

The kid scrambled up and practically ran out.

When the door shut, I turned to Louis. “You think he was lying?”

“I don’t know,” Louis rubbed his face. He looked defeated. “Maybe. Maybe he’s just a kid who was curious. The system didn’t flag him. His background is clean. But my gut…”

His gut was screaming, just like mine. But we had no proof.

The party felt like a failure. We’d built a trap and caught nothing but a scared waiter.

We went back out, smiling again. The party went on for two more hours. It was perfect. And every second of it was awful.

Finally, people started to leave. We stood at the door, saying goodbye, thanking everyone for coming. Katie was asleep in a chair, her head on a pile of balloons.

The last guest left. The band packed up. The house was a mess of empty glasses and confetti.

Louis and I stood in the middle of the empty ballroom. The silence was louder than the music had been.

“It didn’t work,” I said. My voice echoed a little.

“Maybe it did,” Louis said. He didn’t sound like he believed it.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe they saw it all. Saw how tight we were. Saw the security. Maybe it scared them off.”

I wanted to believe that. But the creepy feeling wouldn’t go away.

We cleaned up a little and carried Katie to bed. She was so tired she didn’t even wake up. I tucked her in and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, my brave girl,” I whispered.

Louis and I went to our own room. We were both too tired to talk. We just got ready for bed and turned out the lights.

I was almost asleep when Louis’s phone buzzed on his nightstand. He grabbed it. The light from the screen lit up his face.

His expression went from tired to confused to pure horror.

“What?” I asked, sitting up.

Wordlessly, he handed me the phone.

It was a photo. Taken tonight. From outside, through our big ballroom window. It showed Louis and me in the middle of the dance floor, holding each other close during a slow song. We were looking at each other. From the outside, we probably looked like a happy couple in love.

But that wasn’t the horrible part.

The horrible part was the writing over the photo. Digital handwriting, in the same style as the note on the old picture of me.

It said: **“A beautiful performance. But every play needs an ending. Ours is coming soon.”**

And in the bottom corner of the photo, barely visible in the dark outside the window, was a smudge. A shape. When I squinted, it looked like the outline of a person. Standing in the shadows of our garden. Watching us dance.

They hadn’t come to the party as a guest.

They had been outside the whole time. In the dark. Watching our perfect trap. And they’d sent us a review.

Louis took the phone back. His face was white. “They were here. They’re always here.”

“What do we do now?” I whispered, pulling the blankets up to my chin like a little kid.

Louis looked at the photo again, then out our own window into the black night. “Now,” he said, his voice empty and flat, “we wait for the ending.”