Chapter 3 — The Woman Who Was Watching First
Chapter 3 — The Woman Who Was Watching First
“Hello, Margot.”
The voice came from somewhere beyond the darkness.
Margot stopped breathing.
She knew that voice.
Not because she had heard it often.
Because she had heard it only once.
Fifteen years ago.
At her mother's funeral.
A stranger had stood beneath a black umbrella at the edge of the cemetery.
He had watched Margot from a distance.
He hadn't approached.
He hadn't spoken to her.
But as the funeral ended, Margot had heard his voice.
Low.
Calm.
Almost gentle.
“One day, she'll tell you why.”
Then he had disappeared.
Everyone had told Margot she had imagined it.
She had been fifteen.
Grieving.
Confused.
Her mother had just been buried.
And the man she thought she had seen had supposedly died years earlier.
Now that same voice had spoken her name.
“Margot.”
Vance raised his weapon.
“Stay where you are!”
A lighter clicked.
A small flame appeared.
The old man's face emerged from the darkness.
Gray hair.
Deep lines around his eyes.
A scar running from his temple to his cheek.
But the eyes were unmistakable.
Margot's eyes.
Her father's eyes.
Her own.
Charles Wren.
Her grandfather.
Alive.
“Put the weapon down, Detective.”
Charles spoke calmly.
Vance didn't move.
“You have exactly five seconds to identify yourself.”
Charles smiled.
“You already know who I am.”
“Five.”
“Margot knows.”
“Four.”
Charles looked at his granddaughter.
“Tell him.”
Margot stared at him.
Her voice was barely audible.
“It's him.”
Vance glanced at her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Charles smiled.
“Three.”
Vance lowered his weapon slightly.
“Why are you here?”
Charles looked around the archive.
“Because this room belongs to my family.”
Vance's eyes narrowed.
“And you thought breaking into it was acceptable?”
“I didn't break in.”
“How did you enter?”
Charles pointed toward the ceiling.
“There are three entrances.”
Vance looked upward.
Margot didn't.
She couldn't stop looking at the man standing across the room.
Her grandfather.
The man who had supposedly died before she was born.
The man whose photograph had hung in her mother's house.
The man her mother had never spoken about.
The man who had just appeared in the darkest room beneath the Landry mansion.
Margot took one step forward.
“You're alive.”
Charles nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His expression changed.
“Because dying was easier than explaining the truth.”
Margot's hands began trembling.
“You knew my mother.”
“I did.”
“You knew my father.”
“I did.”
“You knew the Landrys.”
Charles's eyes hardened.
“Better than I wanted to.”
Margot swallowed.
“Did you know Priscilla planned to hurt me?”
“No.”
“Did you know she was watching me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know about the cameras?”
“Yes.”
Margot stared.
“Then why didn't you stop her?”
Charles looked at her.
“Because I was waiting.”
“For what?”
“For you to discover the truth yourself.”
Margot's voice rose.
“I almost lost my daughter!”
Charles flinched.
For the first time, emotion appeared on his face.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“I watched.”
Margot froze.
“You watched?”
Charles didn't answer.
Vance stepped between them.
“What exactly does that mean?”
Charles looked at him.
“I knew when she entered the mansion.”
“When she was followed.”
“When she discovered the cameras.”
“When she contacted you.”
“When Priscilla planned the confrontation.”
“And when she fell.”
Margot stared at him.
“You watched me fall?”
Charles nodded.
“I saw everything.”
Her face went pale.
“Then why didn't you help me?”
Charles's answer was quiet.
“Because if I had appeared, they would have known I was alive.”
Margot shook her head.
“You chose your secret over me.”
“No.”
Charles stepped closer.
“I chose your life over mine.”
Vance looked between them.
“You're going to explain everything.”
Charles smiled.
“I've been waiting fifteen years for someone to ask.”
They moved deeper into the archive.
Charles sat at the old desk.
Margot remained standing.
She didn't trust herself to sit.
Vance stood beside her.
“Start with the Landrys.”
Charles nodded.
“The Landrys weren't always powerful.”
Margot listened.
“Your great-grandfather built Wren Industries from nothing. The Landrys wanted it.”
“Why?”
“Because your family had something they didn't.”
“What?”
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Fraud.”
Charles opened a drawer.
He removed several documents.
“The Landrys built their fortune by acquiring failing companies.”
Margot frowned.
“That isn't illegal.”
“No.”
Charles looked at her.
“But they didn't let the companies fail naturally.”
He spread the documents across the desk.
“Loans were manipulated.”
“Contracts were altered.”
“Competitors were sabotaged.”
“Assets were transferred before bankruptcy.”
“And then the Landrys bought everything for almost nothing.”
Margot stared.
“How long?”
“Three generations.”
Vance examined a document.
“These records are old.”
“Older than you think.”
Charles opened another folder.
“The first major victim was your family.”
Margot looked up.
“My family?”
“Your grandfather's company.”
“Why did my mother never tell me?”
“Because she discovered the truth too late.”
Margot's eyes moved across the pages.
Names.
Bank accounts.
Property transfers.
Shell companies.
She recognized several.
The Landry name appeared again and again.
“So they stole from us.”
“Yes.”
“And my mother found out.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Charles's expression darkened.
“She confronted Walter Landry.”
“Daniel's father?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He threatened her.”
“With what?”
“Your life.”
Margot went still.
Charles continued.
“Your mother had you by then.”
Margot whispered:
“How old was I?”
“Four.”
“She was afraid they'd hurt me.”
“Yes.”
“So she disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“She pretended to be dead.”
“Yes.”
Margot stared at him.
“But I saw her body.”
Charles closed his eyes.
“You saw a body.”
Margot's heart stopped.
“What?”
“Not hers.”
Silence.
Vance looked sharply at Charles.
“Are you saying Evelyn Wren isn't dead?”
Charles nodded.
“She never was.”
Margot felt the room tilt.
“My mother is alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Charles hesitated.
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“I can't tell you.”
Margot's anger returned.
“You've lied to me my entire life.”
Charles looked at her.
“Your mother did.”
“You helped.”
“Yes.”
“Then you're no better than them.”
Charles accepted the accusation.
“Perhaps not.”
Vance stepped forward.
“Where is Evelyn now?”
Charles looked at him.
“If I tell you, she dies.”
“Why?”
“Because the people hunting her have never stopped.”
“Who?”
Charles said nothing.
Margot whispered:
“The person who ordered everything.”
Charles looked at her.
“You read the letter.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know.”
“It said the Landrys were following orders.”
“Yes.”
“From you.”
Charles's expression changed.
Margot pointed to the letter.
“My mother wrote that the Landrys were following orders.”
Charles nodded.
“And the person who ordered them was someone I trusted.”
“Yes.”
“Then who?”
Charles didn't answer.
Margot's eyes narrowed.
“Was it you?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Charles looked toward the archive entrance.
Before he could respond—
the lights came back on.
Everyone turned.
The door was open.
A figure stood in the doorway.
Margot recognized him immediately.
Daniel.
He looked exhausted.
His shirt was wrinkled.
There was a bruise on his cheek from the slap his mother had given him.
But what frightened Margot wasn't his appearance.
It was what he held.
A photograph.
He looked at Charles.
“I know who you are.”
Charles stood.
“Then you know too much.”
Daniel looked at Margot.
“I came to warn you.”
Margot didn't move.
“About what?”
Daniel swallowed.
“My father.”
Charles's expression hardened.
“Where is Walter?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Then how did you get here?”
Daniel looked toward the corridor.
“He followed me.”
Vance immediately reached for his radio.
“Everybody stay here.”
Daniel shook his head.
“You don't understand.”
“What?”
“My father isn't alone.”
A sound echoed upstairs.
A door slammed.
Then another.
Vance looked at Charles.
“How many people are in this house?”
Charles answered:
“Too many.”
Police officers moved through the mansion.
The family had been confined to separate rooms.
But now several rooms were empty.
Walter was gone.
Priscilla was gone.
Her attorney was gone.
And two security guards were missing.
Vance's radio crackled.
“Detective, we found an exit.”
“Where?”
“Behind the wine cellar.”
Vance's expression changed.
“Get a team down there.”
He looked at Charles.
“You said there were three entrances.”
“Yes.”
“How many exits?”
“Two.”
“And the second?”
Charles looked at Margot.
“Your bedroom.”
Margot stared.
“What?”
“The hidden passage connects the old nursery to this archive.”
She felt sick.
“The nursery?”
“Yes.”
“The room Priscilla wanted to turn into my daughter's room?”
Charles nodded.
“She wasn't preparing it for your daughter.”
Margot's eyes narrowed.
“Then what was it for?”
Charles looked at her.
“Evidence.”
They entered the nursery.
The room was beautifully decorated.
White curtains.
A wooden crib.
Soft lamps.
A rocking chair.
Everything looked peaceful.
Margot stepped closer.
She had always hated this room.
Priscilla had insisted on decorating it herself.
She had told Margot:
“A grandmother knows what a baby needs.”
Margot had thought it was simply another attempt to control her.
Now she realized it was something else.
Charles walked toward the crib.
He touched the wooden frame.
Then pressed a hidden mechanism.
The wall opened.
Behind it was a narrow passage.
Vance shone his flashlight inside.
“Where does it lead?”
Charles answered:
“To the archive.”
Margot stared.
Then she noticed something.
A small red light.
Above the crib.
A camera.
She stepped backward.
“She was watching the nursery too.”
Charles nodded.
“Not Priscilla.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
Daniel walked toward the camera.
His face went pale.
“I've seen this system before.”
Margot looked at him.
“Where?”
“In my father's office.”
Daniel took out his phone.
He opened a photograph.
A computer screen.
The same camera system.
Dozens of feeds.
Margot's bedroom.
The nursery.
The garden.
The hospital.
Her blood ran cold.
“How long has your father been watching me?”
Daniel shook his head.
“It isn't my father.”
Margot stared.
“What?”
Daniel looked at Charles.
“He doesn't control the system.”
Charles said nothing.
Daniel continued.
“Someone controls him.”
Vance frowned.
“Who?”
Daniel looked at Margot.
“The person who owns the Landry family.”
Margot felt a chill.
“Who?”
Daniel whispered:
“I don't know.”
Charles stepped forward.
“You do.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“You've seen him.”
“No.”
“You spoke to him.”
“I didn't know who he was.”
Charles's expression hardened.
“Then tell us what he looks like.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“I never saw his face.”
“His voice?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Daniel looked at Margot.
“He said your daughter couldn't be allowed to be born.”
Margot's blood turned cold.
“Why?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Because if she is born…”
He looked toward her stomach.
“…the inheritance becomes hers.”
Margot stared.
“What inheritance?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Charles did.
“Your grandmother's.”
Margot frowned.
“My grandmother died before I was born.”
“Yes.”
“And she left me something?”
“Not you.”
Charles looked at her stomach.
“Your daughter.”
Margot's hand instinctively covered her belly.
“How much?”
Charles's eyes hardened.
“Enough to destroy the Landrys.”
The room became silent.
Vance looked at Charles.
“Then that's the motive.”
“No.”
Charles shook his head.
“The money is only part of it.”
“What else?”
Charles looked at Margot.
“Your daughter is the last legal heir of the Wren bloodline.”
Margot stared.
“And?”
“If she is born…”
He paused.
“The Landry family loses everything they stole from us.”
Margot understood.
The pregnancy wasn't simply a family dispute.
It was a countdown.
Every week her daughter remained alive, the Landrys' control weakened.
Every day Margot survived, their plan became harder.
And the fall down the stairs—
hadn't been an act of rage.
It had been an attempt to stop the clock.
Suddenly, Daniel's phone rang.
Everyone froze.
Unknown number.
Daniel answered.
“Hello?”
A distorted voice came through.
“Daniel.”
He turned pale.
“Who is this?”
“You know.”
Daniel looked at Margot.
The voice continued.
“Your wife is asking too many questions.”
Daniel said nothing.
“You were warned.”
“What do you want?”
A pause.
“The child.”
Margot's eyes hardened.
The voice continued.
“Give us the child, and your mother lives.”
Daniel froze.
“What?”
“Priscilla is still alive.”
Margot stared.
Daniel's voice cracked.
“Where is she?”
The caller laughed softly.
“Come alone.”
The line went dead.
Daniel looked at Margot.
“My mother is alive.”
Vance took the phone.
“Don't call back.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I have to.”
“No.”
“If I don't go, they'll kill her.”
Margot looked at him.
“Daniel.”
He turned.
“You don't go anywhere.”
“Margot—”
“Your mother chose this.”
“She doesn't deserve to die.”
Margot's expression softened slightly.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“But neither do you.”
Charles suddenly looked toward the window.
“Someone is here.”
Vance raised his weapon.
A shadow moved outside.
Then a gunshot shattered the glass.
Everyone dropped.
The bullet struck the wall.
Margot screamed.
Daniel grabbed her.
Vance pulled them behind the wall.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Vance looked outside.
Nothing.
Only darkness.
He turned to Charles.
“Who was that?”
Charles didn't answer.
Margot looked at him.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Charles stared at her.
“The man I've been hiding you from.”
Margot swallowed.
“Who is he?”
Charles hesitated.
Then finally spoke.
“Your father.”
Margot froze.
“My father?”
Charles nodded.
“The man you were told died.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Elias Wren?”
Charles shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at Margot.
“Your father isn't Elias.”
Margot's heart stopped.
“Then who?”
Charles's answer was barely audible.
“Walter Landry.”
Margot stared at him.
The world seemed to disappear beneath her feet.
“No.”
Charles closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
And somewhere outside the mansion, a car engine roared to life.
Someone was leaving.
Someone who had just heard the truth.
Someone who had been waiting fifteen years for Margot to discover it.
And as Margot stood frozen in the hidden nursery, her unborn daughter moved beneath her hand.
One small kick.
Then another.
Margot looked down.
For the first time, she wasn't thinking about the money.
Or the Landrys.
Or even the betrayal.
She was thinking about one question.
If Walter Landry was truly her father—
then what had her mother been running from all these years?
And why had she hidden the truth from Margot until now?
The answer was waiting somewhere inside the archive.
But before Margot could return to it, every light in the mansion went dark again.
And this time—
May you like
the doors locked automatically.
Someone had taken control of the house.
