Chapter 4 - A House Full of CamerasEight days after the gala, Kate returned to the Blackwell estate for twenty minutes.
She was not supposed to.
Dr. Graves had forbidden work.
Damon had forbidden work.
Her mother had threatened to personally call Damon if Kate attempted work.
Kate was beginning to feel surrounded by dictators.
She only wanted her apartment keys.
She had left them inside her locker.
That was all.
Twenty minutes.
Maybe fifteen.
Elias drove her through the gates shortly after noon.
The estate looked different in daylight after a week away.
Same limestone walls.
Same iron gates.
Same winter gardens.
Yet Kate no longer saw it merely as a workplace.
She saw the library windows.
Third from the left.
She remembered a locked door.
Her fingers went cold.
Elias noticed.
“We can use the west entrance.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I know.”
She hated that everyone suddenly knew what she was trying to prove before she did.
“I want the normal entrance.”
Elias nodded.
They entered through the staff courtyard.
Mrs. Ortega saw Kate and abandoned an entire tray of bread.
“My baby.”
“I’m twenty-six.”
“My baby.”
The cook wrapped her carefully in a one-armed hug.
Within six minutes Kate had been fed soup, questioned about medication, lectured about sleep and informed that Damon had become “impossible.”
“He was already impossible,” Kate said.
“No. Different impossible.”
“How?”
“He walks through the kitchen.”
Kate waited.
“And?”
“He never walks through the kitchen.”
Mrs. Ortega lowered her voice.
“He asks if you called.”
Kate nearly dropped her spoon.
“What?”
“Every morning.”
Kate stared.
“Why?”
“You tell me.”
Before Kate could answer, footsteps approached.
Damon entered.
Mrs. Ortega looked delighted.
Kate considered climbing through a window.
His gaze immediately found the cast.
Then her face.
Then Elias.
“I thought she was at St. Vincent’s.”
Elias remained calm.
“She needed keys.”
“I have people who retrieve keys.”
Kate stood.
“I didn’t want people retrieving my keys.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Hello to you too.”
Mrs. Ortega disappeared.
Coward.
Damon looked tired.
There were faint shadows beneath his eyes.
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I’ve rested for eight days. I’m beginning to understand why prisoners tunnel through walls.”
“You broke two bones.”
“I remember.”
“Apparently not.”
Kate folded her good arm.
“Are you always this controlling?”
“Yes.”
The immediate answer ruined her argument.
She sighed.
“My keys are upstairs. Five minutes.”
“I’ll get them.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re in my locker.”
“And?”
“Women have lockers for a reason.”
He considered.
“Fine.”
Kate headed toward the service staircase.
Damon followed.
She stopped.
“You don’t have to escort me.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
“I’m going upstairs.”
“You were walking toward the pantry.”
“I changed my mind.”
Kate stared at him.
He stared back.
She continued.
On the second floor, they passed the library corridor.
Kate stopped without meaning to.
The door to the room where Preston attacked her had been removed.
Not opened.
Removed.
Only the frame remained.
She stared into the empty library.
Furniture gone.
Carpet ripped out.
Walls stripped to plaster.
“What happened?”
Damon stopped beside her.
“Renovation.”
“You destroyed the room.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at it.
“My grandmother requested it.”
“Mrs. Blackwell?”
“She dislikes bad memories.”
Kate remembered Damon’s phrase.
So does mine.
“Where is she?”
“In the conservatory.”
“Does she know everything?”
“Yes.”
Kate looked down.
“I’m embarrassed to see her.”
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Taking responsibility for other people’s actions.”
His voice had sharpened.
Kate turned.
“You say that like it’s easy.”
“No.”
His expression softened.
“I say it like it’s necessary.”
Before she could answer, Matteo appeared at the end of the corridor.
He stopped when he saw Kate.
“Good. You’re here.”
Damon frowned.
“She’s leaving.”
“I need five minutes.”
“No.”
Kate looked between them.
“Need me for what?”
Matteo held a tablet.
“We found something.”
Damon’s jaw tightened.
“Not today.”
“If it concerns me, I want to know.”
“It doesn’t.”
Matteo looked at Damon.
Then Kate.
“It does.”
Damon gave him a look capable of freezing water.
Matteo remained alive.
Barely.
Kate stepped closer.
“What?”
Matteo opened the tablet.
“A week before the gala, Preston Caldwell searched the Blackwell household staffing directory.”
Kate’s skin prickled.
“Why?”
“We thought he selected you randomly during the party.”
“He didn’t?”
Matteo showed her a screenshot.
A private message recovered from Preston’s cloud account.
Photograph attached.
Kate.
Carrying groceries through the staff courtyard.
Taken six days before the gala.
Her stomach turned.
Text beneath it.
THIS ONE.
Kate stopped breathing.
Damon took the tablet from Matteo.
“Enough.”
“No,” Kate whispered.
She took it back.
Another message.
She read.
QUIET TYPE. NO BOYFRIEND. MOM SICK. SHE NEEDS THE JOB.
Kate’s vision blurred.
They had researched her.
Just as Damon had.
But for a different reason.
Preston had known her mother was sick.
Known she needed money.
Known she would be afraid to report him.
A cold wave moved through her.
“I wasn’t random.”
“No,” Matteo said gently.
Kate scrolled.
Another message.
WHO GAVE YOU THE FILE?
Response:
HOUSE SOURCE.
Damon went completely still.
Matteo nodded.
“That’s why I needed to tell you.”
Kate looked at Damon.
“There’s someone here?”
“Possibly.”
“Who gave him my information?”
“We’re investigating.”
“Someone in this house told Preston about my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Someone I work with.”
“Maybe.”
Kate suddenly looked at every doorway differently.
Mrs. Ortega.
Charles.
The footmen.
Security.
Housekeeping.
Administrative staff.
People she ate lunch beside.
People who knew when her mother’s appointments happened.
“Did they know what he wanted?”
“We don’t know,” Matteo said.
Kate handed him the tablet.
“I want to go home.”
Damon stepped closer.
“I’ll take you.”
“No.”
“Kate.”
“I need ten minutes without someone protecting me.”
His face tightened.
“Protection isn’t punishment.”
“It feels like it right now.”
He absorbed that.
Then nodded.
“Elias will drive.”
She almost protested.
He raised one eyebrow.
“Compromise.”
Kate exhaled.
“Fine.”
She collected her keys.
Before leaving, she went to the conservatory.
Eleanor Blackwell sat beside a wall of winter roses reading financial newspapers.
At seventy-six, she wore pearls at noon and possessed the posture of an empress.
She looked at Kate’s arm.
Then removed her glasses.
“Come here.”
Kate approached.
“I’m sorry I disappeared during the gala.”
Eleanor’s eyes flashed.
“Damon told me you’d say something idiotic.”
Kate blinked.
“He did?”
“Sit.”
Kate sat.
Eleanor poured tea.
“Do you know why I hired you?”
Kate shook her head.
“Mrs. Ortega hired me.”
“I approve everyone who sleeps or works under this roof.”
Of course she did.
“You had twelve references.”
“I’ve worked a lot.”
“You worked three jobs simultaneously at nineteen.”
Kate stared.
Eleanor continued.
“You never stole. Never lied on expense forms. Never spoke cruelly about an employer after leaving. And when Mrs. Langdon accused you of breaking her crystal bowl, you paid for it even though security footage later showed her grandson did it.”
Kate remembered.
“I needed the reference.”
“That,” Eleanor said, “is why I almost rejected you.”
Kate looked confused.
“Because I paid?”
“Because you believed survival required accepting humiliation.”
The words cut.
Eleanor sipped tea.
“I have watched women do that my entire life.”
Kate stared at the roses.
“I thought being quiet kept me safe.”
“Sometimes.”
Eleanor looked directly at her.
“Until predators realize quiet people are easier to isolate.”
Kate’s throat tightened.
“How do I know who to trust now?”
“You don’t.”
“That’s comforting.”
Eleanor smiled.
“Trust is not knowing someone will never hurt you. It is observing what they do when hurting you would benefit them.”
Kate thought of Damon.
“Your grandson scares me.”
“He scares me occasionally.”
“Really?”
“No.”
Kate laughed.
Eleanor smiled.
“But he should scare you a little.”
Kate looked up.
“Why?”
“Because Damon is not a good man in the conventional sense.”
The honesty surprised her.
“He can be ruthless. Controlling. Vindictive. He remembers every betrayal. He has done things I would prefer not to know.”
Kate swallowed.
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Because people will tell you either that Damon is a monster or that he is secretly harmless.”
Eleanor leaned forward.
“Both are lies.”
Something cold and strangely reassuring settled in Kate.
“What is the truth?”
“He is dangerous.”
Eleanor paused.
“But he chooses very carefully who receives that danger.”
Kate’s heart beat faster.
“And me?”
A small smile touched Eleanor’s mouth.
“My dear, that is precisely why he has been walking through my kitchen at seven every morning pretending he wants coffee.”
Kate stared.
“He asks about you.”
“I know.”
“Does he do that often?”
“Never.”
Kate looked away.
Eleanor’s expression softened.
“Be careful with him.”
Kate nodded.
“And make him be careful with you.”
That was different.
Outside, Damon stood on the terrace speaking with Matteo.
Kate could not hear them.
But she saw Matteo hand him a folder.
Saw Damon open it.
Saw his entire posture change.
Later she would learn what was inside.
A payroll audit.
One unexplained transfer.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
Sent to a Blackwell household employee forty-eight hours before the gala.
The employee’s name was Thomas Keane.
Assistant house manager.
A man Kate had trusted.
A man who had driven her to St. Vincent’s twice.
May you like
A man who knew her mother’s diagnosis.
And somewhere across the city, Thomas Keane was already running.
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