Chapter 9 - The Deceptive Test and The Tracker
But something still did not fit.
“If Vincent knew who I was,” I said, “why let me work at the mansion for six years?”
Helena looked toward Dominic.
“Because he didn’t know.”
“What?”
“I changed Maria’s records when she was a child. Alvarez was my mother’s surname.”
Dominic understood.
“So when did Vincent discover her?”
“Three weeks ago.”
The birthday.
The cake.
The sudden surveillance.
All of it had begun after Vincent learned the truth.
“How?”
Helena looked at Lily.
“Because of a school photograph.”
My daughter attended a small preschool funded partly through one of Dominic’s charities.
A photo had appeared in the school newsletter.
Lily wore my silver necklace for costume day.
Vincent recognized it.
He began investigating.
The cake was not merely intended for Ethan.
It was a test.
If Lily noticed the intrusion, Vincent would know whether she had inherited Helena’s extraordinary observational instinct.
I almost laughed at the absurdity.
“What does that even mean?”
Helena smiled faintly.
“You noticed things too when you were little.”
“I’m a housekeeper.”
“You’re an exceptional housekeeper because you notice everything.”
Dominic looked at me.
The misplaced glass.
The missing cufflink.
The employee who lied about entering a room.
The tiny changes I caught without thinking.
I had always believed it was simply competence.
Helena had trained herself the same way.
Suddenly Dominic’s phone vibrated.
A message.
Three words.
CHECK THE HOUSE.
Attached was a live photograph.
Ethan.
Sleeping in his bedroom.
Dominic’s face emptied of color.
The convoy raced back.
We found the estate locked exactly as we had left it.
Ethan was still asleep.
No intruder.
But on his bedside table sat a black envelope.
Inside was a note.
YOU HAVE UNTIL SUNRISE.
Beneath it was an address.
Dominic wanted to send men.
Helena stopped him.
“That’s what Vincent expects.”
“He entered my son’s room.”
“No. He wants you to believe he did.”
Dominic checked the photograph again.
Helena zoomed in.
“The clock.”
The bedside clock showed 9:17.
It was nearly 3:00 a.m.
The photo had been taken before the lockdown.
Vincent was manipulating our fear.
Then I noticed something.
“The curtain.”
Dominic looked.
One curtain was closed.
Ethan always slept with both open because he hated waking in darkness.
I walked to the wall.
Behind the curtain, scratched faintly into the paint, was a small symbol.
A triangle inside a circle.
Helena went pale.
May you like
“What is that?”
“Vincent’s old safe-house marking.”
