Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Recording
I didn't scream.
I grabbed the bedside lamp.
The door opened.
Antoine entered.
I nearly broke his skull.
He caught the lamp.
“Della.”
“Knock!”
“You sent Donovan an emergency message.”
I showed him my phone.
His expression changed.
Within minutes, the mansion locked down.
Nobody was found.
But the photograph proved one camera remained.
We discovered it inside an air vent.
The transmitter was newer than the others.
Installed after I arrived.
That meant our enemy had access to the house.
Antoine doubled security.
I did something more useful.
I watched people.
Staff.
Drivers.
Guards.
Family.
Everyone behaved differently around Antoine.
Fear made people careful.
Around me, they relaxed.
I was just Della.
The waitress.
The nanny.
The large woman with a soft voice who carried crackers in her pockets.
Invisible people hear everything.
Two days later, I heard Victor's assistant arguing on the phone near the kitchen.
“You promised the recordings were gone.”
I kept stirring soup.
He noticed me.
I smiled.
“Want some?”
He left.
That afternoon, the forensic specialist recovered eleven seconds of video from Isabella's tablet.
We gathered in Antoine's office.
Isabella appeared on screen.
She looked exhausted.
“If you're watching this, I was right.”
Antoine stopped breathing.
“Someone inside Maro Shipping is moving money through Pelican Meridian. I found altered manifests too. Containers that don't exist. Payments that shouldn't exist.”
She looked behind her.
Then whispered:
“I think Victor knows.”
Antoine shut his eyes.
The recording continued.
“But Victor isn't the one I'm afraid of.”
The video corrupted.
“Who?” Antoine demanded.
Nothing.
The specialist tried recovering more.
We waited hours.
At dusk, he found audio.
Isabella's voice.
“One person has access to Antoine's schedule, the house, the docks and my car.”
Static.
Then:
“If anything happens to me, don't trust—”
Silence.
The name was gone.
Antoine slammed his fist against the desk.
I caught his wrist before he could do it again.
“Breaking your hand won't recover the file.”
He looked at my fingers around him.
I released him.
“Sorry.”
“Don't be.”
Something had changed between us.
I didn't want to name it.
Neither did he.
The children came first.
Isabella came first.
Truth came first.
That night, Camille had a nightmare.
Antoine and I reached her room simultaneously.
She climbed into my arms.
Antoine sat beside us.
For twenty minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Camille reached one hand toward him.
“Papa.”
Antoine froze.
Her first word for him.
“Papa.”
His face collapsed.
He held her.
I turned away to give him privacy.
His hand caught mine.
So the three of us sat there together.
It wasn't romance.
Not yet.
It was grief making room for something living.
The next morning, Renee called.
Pelican Meridian had paid another company.
Black Cypress Security.
Its owner was Donovan Price.
I stared at the screen.
Antoine's most trusted man.
The person controlling every camera.
Every gate.
Every security schedule.
The person who knew where Isabella went the night she died.
I didn't tell Antoine immediately.
I hated myself for that.
Instead, I went downstairs.
Donovan stood near the front entrance.
“Going somewhere?”
“Grocery store.”
“We have staff.”
“I want normal cereal.”
He stared.
“What is normal cereal?”
“The kind that comes with a cartoon animal and enough sugar to legally qualify as cake.”
He almost smiled.
Then his phone rang.
He turned away.
I saw the screen.
VICTOR SAYE.
Donovan walked outside to answer.
My blood went cold.
I followed far enough to hear one sentence.
“She found the transfers.”
He turned.
I stepped backward.
A floorboard creaked.
Donovan looked toward the window.
I ran.
Not outside.
Upstairs.
I locked myself inside the nursery.
My hands shook while I called Antoine.
No answer.
Camille toddled toward me.
She held something.
Another spoon.
No.
A USB drive taped underneath it.
Isabella had hidden evidence in ordinary objects.
I inserted the drive into the nursery laptop.
One video file.
I opened it.
Isabella appeared.
This recording was clear.
“Della Marsh.”
My heart stopped.
She knew my name.
“If you're seeing this, then somehow my babies remembered you.”
I covered my mouth.
“I watched you through the NICU glass sometimes. You held them when I couldn't. You hummed. They slept.”
Tears blurred the screen.
“I asked the nurses who you were. They told me only your first name. Later, I found your volunteer record.”
Isabella smiled sadly.
“I hope you never need to see this.”
Then her expression changed.
“If you do, protect my children from the man Antoine trusts most.”
A shadow crossed behind her.
She whispered one name.
“Donovan.”
Behind me, the nursery lock clicked.
May you like
And Donovan's voice came through the door.
“Della, open it.”
