Chapter 7
Chapter 7
The Hidden Cameras
The emergency alarm continued to echo through the Blackwood Estate.
Red warning lights flashed along every corridor, replacing the mansion's warm golden glow with an ominous crimson haze. One by one, steel security shutters sealed the windows while electronic locks clicked shut throughout the building.
Grace tightened her grip on Catherine's diary.
The folded map labeled The Mother's Room felt heavier than paper should.
Across from her, Isabella's face had turned pale.
"We have to leave," she whispered.
"The estate is locked down."
"There are passages the security system doesn't know about."
Grace frowned.
"I thought Jonathan controlled everything."
"He controls almost everything."
Isabella reached beneath a marble table and pressed against a decorative carving hidden underneath its edge.
A quiet click echoed through the conservatory.
One section of the stone wall slowly shifted inward, revealing a narrow passage just wide enough for one person.
Grace stared in disbelief.
"Another secret tunnel?"
"This house has dozens of them."
"How do you know?"
Isabella hesitated.
"Because I helped restore this estate."
The answer only deepened Grace's suspicions.
The passage twisted beneath the eastern wing before ending inside a forgotten wine cellar.
Dust covered the shelves, and broken bottles littered the floor.
The air smelled of damp stone and old wood.
Isabella closed the hidden door behind them.
"For now, we're safe."
Grace folded her arms.
"No."
Isabella looked at her.
"No more half-truths."
"You've lied to me from the beginning."
"I know."
"You knew Daniel was alive."
"Yes."
"You knew about Basement Seven."
"Yes."
"You knew about Catherine."
Another pause.
"Yes."
Grace's voice hardened.
"Then tell me why."
For several seconds, Isabella remained silent.
When she finally spoke, her voice was almost fragile.
"I came to this house because of Catherine."
Grace blinked.
"You knew her?"
"We were sisters."
The words hung in the air.
Grace's eyes widened.
"Catherine was your sister?"
Isabella nodded slowly.
"She disappeared eight years ago."
"I never believed she abandoned Daniel."
"So you married Jonathan..."
"...to find out what happened."
Grace searched Isabella's face.
For the first time, she saw genuine grief instead of flawless composure.
"My marriage was never about love," Isabella admitted quietly.
"It was the only way inside."
A sudden buzz interrupted the silence.
A small monitor mounted high on the cellar wall flickered to life.
Neither woman had noticed it before.
Static filled the screen.
Then the image sharpened.
Grace gasped.
The monitor showed the conservatory they had left only minutes earlier.
Three armed guards entered the room, searching every corner.
Jonathan followed behind them.
He stopped exactly where Grace had been standing.
Without saying a word, he looked directly toward the hidden camera.
Almost as if he knew Grace was watching.
Then he smiled.
A cold smile.
"She's learning faster than I expected," he said.
The monitor went black.
Grace stared upward.
"There's a camera here."
Isabella slowly nodded.
"There are cameras everywhere."
They spent the next hour moving through abandoned maintenance corridors beneath the mansion.
Every few hundred feet, Grace noticed tiny black lenses hidden inside light fixtures, ventilation grilles, smoke detectors, and decorative carvings.
Some were nearly impossible to spot.
Others were disguised as antique brass screws.
She counted twelve cameras before they reached the old servants' staircase.
Then she stopped counting.
"How many are there?" Grace asked.
"More than a hundred."
"A hundred?"
"Closer to one hundred and fifty."
Grace looked around the narrow hallway.
"He can see every room?"
"Almost."
"The bedrooms?"
"Yes."
"The kitchen?"
"Yes."
"The library?"
"Yes."
Grace felt sick.
"The staff?"
"Everyone."
She suddenly remembered Catherine's diary.
"The cameras are not for security."
Catherine had been telling the truth.
They emerged into the abandoned nursery on the mansion's third floor.
Faded wallpaper decorated with painted stars still covered the walls.
A small rocking horse stood in the corner beneath years of dust.
Grace slowly approached a wooden bookshelf.
Several children's books remained neatly arranged.
One caught her attention.
The Secret Garden.
She pulled it from the shelf.
A folded photograph slipped onto the floor.
Grace picked it up.
It showed Catherine sitting beside a little boy—Daniel—on this very floor.
Behind them stood another child.
A girl.
She looked no older than six.
Grace turned the picture over.
Written in Catherine's handwriting were four words.
Both of my children.
Grace frowned.
"Daniel had a sister?"
Isabella stared at the photograph in shock.
"No..."
"What?"
"I've never seen this picture."
Grace looked back at the smiling girl.
"Who is she?"
"I don't know."
"But Catherine only had one child."
Grace carefully examined the image again.
The little girl looked strikingly familiar.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
A tiny crescent-shaped birthmark near her left ear.
Grace's breath caught.
She had seen that birthmark before.
On Isabella.
Before either woman could speak, footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the nursery.
Someone was approaching.
They quickly extinguished their flashlights.
The bedroom door slowly opened.
Jonathan stepped inside alone.
He walked calmly toward the rocking horse and gently brushed the dust from its wooden handle.
"I know you're close," he said quietly.
His voice carried through the silent room.
"You've found the diary."
No answer.
"You've found the tunnels."
Still silence.
"But you haven't found the truth."
He smiled faintly.
"When you do..."
His eyes drifted toward the hidden camera mounted above the fireplace.
"...you'll wish you had stopped looking."
He turned and walked out.
The footsteps faded.
Grace released the breath she had been holding.
"Why was he talking to the camera?" she whispered.
Isabella looked toward the ceiling.
"Because he knew we'd be watching."
Grace's heart sank.
Jonathan hadn't been searching for them.
He had been speaking directly to them.
He wanted them to keep investigating.
As Grace looked around the nursery once more, something suddenly caught her attention.
The teddy bear sitting on the rocking chair wasn't there when they entered.
She was certain of it.
Slowly, she walked toward it.
Tucked beneath its worn ribbon collar was a small envelope.
May you like
On the front, written in fresh black ink, were three words.
For Grace Alone.
