Chapter 2 - The House With Too Many CamerasEthan spent the next hour pretending nothing was wrong.
For three full seconds, he forgot how to breathe.
The tray trembled in her hands.
A porcelain coffee cup rattled against its saucer.
Across the enormous breakfast room of Blackwood Manor, no one else seemed to notice.
His mother continued spreading marmalade across her toast.
His younger brother stared at his phone.
Two uniformed housekeepers stood beside the doors.
And five-year-old Noah Blackwood sat silently at the end of the table, pushing blueberries around his plate.
Ethan could only stare at the maid.
Claire.
His wife.
The woman whose burned-out car had been discovered at the bottom of a ravine twenty-two months earlier.
The woman investigators claimed had died after losing control on a mountain road.
The woman Ethan had buried beneath a marble headstone despite never receiving a body.
Her hair was darker now.
Shorter.
She looked thinner.
There was a faint scar along her jaw that had never been there before.
But Ethan knew those eyes.
Gray-green.
The same eyes he had looked into the morning Noah was born.
The same eyes that had filled with tears when Ethan left for London two years earlier to rescue the collapsing European division of Blackwood Aerospace.
The same eyes he had spent almost two years dreaming about.
“Coffee, Mr. Blackwood?”
Her voice nearly broke him.
Ethan’s mother, Victoria Blackwood, glanced up.
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
Ethan forced his gaze away.
His pulse hammered beneath his collar.
“I’m tired.”
Victoria smiled.
“Of course. We weren’t expecting you until February.”
Neither were you, Ethan thought.
That suddenly felt very important.
His return had been deliberately kept secret.
The company jet landed outside New York shortly after midnight.
His driver believed Ethan was staying at the Blackwood Hotel.
Instead, Ethan had dismissed him and taken another vehicle to the family estate.
No announcement.
No calls.
No warning.
Now Claire was standing ten feet away dressed as a servant.
And everyone was pretending she was a stranger.
The maid moved toward him.
Her hands shook as she poured coffee.
Ethan smelled lavender.
Claire had always used lavender soap.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
Then her sleeve slipped upward.
Bruises circled her wrist.
Not one bruise.
Several.
Dark.
Finger-shaped.
Ethan nearly stood.
Claire’s eyes snapped toward his.
Don’t.
The warning was unmistakable.
She leaned closer as though adjusting his napkin.
Her lips barely moved.
“Pretend you don’t know me.”
Ethan’s heart slammed once against his ribs.
“Claire—”
She dropped a spoon.
It struck the floor loudly.
Everyone looked toward them.
Claire immediately knelt.
“Forgive me, sir.”
Ethan stared at the back of her bowed head.
His mother sighed.
“Honestly, Anna, you’ve been here three months. You should know how to carry a tray by now.”
Anna.
They were calling Claire Anna.
Claire picked up the spoon.
As she rose, she whispered five words so quietly Ethan almost wondered whether he imagined them.
“Or they’ll kill your son.”
His blood turned cold.
Ethan looked toward Noah.
The boy was still pushing blueberries around his plate.
But now Ethan noticed things he had missed.
Noah had lost weight.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
The cheerful child Ethan spoke to every Sunday by video call looked nothing like the silent little boy sitting at the table.
And beside Noah stood a man Ethan didn’t recognize.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Black suit.
Clear earpiece.
“Who’s that?” Ethan asked.
His mother followed his gaze.
“Mr. Crane. Noah’s new security specialist.”
“I didn’t hire him.”
Victoria’s smile tightened.
“You were overseas.”
“My son already has security.”
“Had.”
Ethan turned slowly.
“What does that mean?”
His younger brother, Lucas, finally looked up.
“There was an incident.”
“What incident?”
Victoria placed her knife down.
“Nothing worth discussing before breakfast.”
Ethan stared at his mother.
Then at Lucas.
Then at Noah.
“Noah.”
His son lifted his head.
“Come here, buddy.”
The boy didn’t move.
Crane rested one hand on the back of Noah’s chair.
It looked casual.
It wasn’t.
Noah’s eyes flicked toward the hand.
Fear.
Ethan recognized it instantly.
His chair scraped backward.
“Take your hand off my son.”
The room became still.
Crane removed it.
“Of course, Mr. Blackwood.”
Noah suddenly climbed from his chair and ran toward Ethan.
Ethan caught him, lifting the boy against his chest.
Noah clung so tightly it hurt.
“Daddy.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“I’m here.”
Noah buried his face against his neck.
“You came early.”
“I did.”
“They said you wouldn’t.”
Ethan opened his eyes.
Across the room, Claire was watching.
Tears shone in them.
Victoria stood.
“Noah has school.”
“No.”
Everyone looked at Ethan.
He kept one arm around his son.
“He stays with me today.”
Crane stepped forward.
“Mr. Blackwood, his routine—”
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
The security man stopped.
Ethan turned toward Claire.
She immediately lowered her eyes.
He needed answers.
But whatever had happened inside Blackwood Manor was larger than one missing woman.
Claire was alive.
His son was terrified.
His staff had been replaced.
And his family had expected Ethan to remain six thousand miles away for another six months.
He kissed Noah’s hair.
Then he noticed something beneath the boy’s collar.
A purple mark.
Ethan gently pulled the fabric aside.
Noah flinched.
There were two small bruises near his shoulder.
His voice became dangerously calm.
“Who did this?”
Noah went rigid.
“Nobody.”
“Buddy.”
“Nobody, Daddy.”
Behind him, a porcelain plate shattered.
Claire stood beside the sideboard.
Her face had gone white.
Victoria’s expression hardened.
“Anna. Clean that up.”
Claire knelt among the broken pieces.
Ethan watched her.
She looked toward him only once.
Then toward the ceiling.
Ethan followed her gaze.
A tiny black camera stared down from the chandelier.
Claire lowered her eyes.
And Ethan finally understood.
May you like
They were being watched.
Inside his own home.
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