Chapter 2 - THE CAMERA THAT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO WORK
Norah did not turn around when she saw the photograph. She knew the kitchen had three cameras, a security guard outside the loading entrance, and men watching the grounds through windows that reflected the afternoon sun. Looking over her shoulder would tell the person taking pictures that the message had landed.
She put her phone facedown beside the sink.
Vincent watched her from his stool. His unfinished broth sat before him, warm enough to release a faint trail of steam.
"Bad news?" he asked.
"My landlord."
"Does your landlord usually make your hands shake?"
Norah curled her fingers into her palms. "Only when the rent is due."
It was not a good lie. Vincent heard that immediately. But he also recognized an expression he had worn himself: the look of someone deciding how much truth a dangerous stranger could bear.
He looked toward Enzo. "Give Miss Bennett her break. I'll finish when I feel ready."
"Boss, the doctor said—"
"The doctor said I should choose. That's what I'm doing."
Norah escaped into the pantry and leaned against the closed door. She had been in the house barely an hour. Already Calvin knew she was standing beside Vincent's food. She imagined him showing her picture to the men who had threatened to break her fingers, laughing at how easily she could be used.
Her phone vibrated again.
WE WANT THE BLUE ACCOUNT BOOK. IT'S IN HIS PRIVATE STUDY. ONE CLEAR PHOTO OF PAGE 47.
Norah read the instruction twice. She had cleaned the study before. It had a green banker lamp, a safe disguised behind a landscape painting, and an entire wall of ledgers that looked identical to her. She had no idea which one was blue. She had no intention of finding out.
She typed: I WON'T STEAL FROM MY EMPLOYER.
The reply arrived almost instantly.
THEN WE COME TO YOUR APARTMENT TONIGHT.
Norah slid down the pantry wall until she was sitting on the floor. For months she had survived by paying small amounts, apologizing, and promising more. Now she saw the truth: there would never be a final payment as long as Calvin could use her fear.
Someone knocked gently.
"Norah?" It was Dr. Shah. "Are you feeling ill?"
"No. Just tired."
"You look as though you could use a chair and a glass of water. May I come in?"
Norah opened the door. Dr. Shah took one look at her face and guided her toward a stool. There was no accusation in the doctor's voice. Norah nearly told her everything.
Instead she said, "Can I ask something? If someone threatens an employee, is there anybody here they can talk to?"
Dr. Shah sat opposite her. "Yes. But it depends what kind of threat you mean. The estate has employment procedures, and threats of violence should be reported to the authorities. Is someone hurting you?"
Norah swallowed. "Not yet."
The doctor's expression changed. "Norah, you don't have to explain everything to me right now, but you shouldn't handle a threat alone. I can help you find independent support."
Norah looked at the door. "Would Mr. Rossy know?"
"Not unless you wanted him involved or there were an immediate safety issue that required us to act. I'm his physician, not his intelligence officer."
That made Norah laugh weakly. "He probably has one of those already."
"Several, I imagine."
Dr. Shah offered the number of a victim-support service and recommended documenting the messages. Norah saved the number under a neutral name. She still couldn't bring herself to call.
By late afternoon, Vincent had eaten most of the second bowl. He was exhausted by the effort but no worse than when he began. Dr. Shah treated the meal as one promising step in a larger recovery plan involving nutritional monitoring, medical follow-up, and care for the fear that accompanied eating.
"You don't win an argument with your nervous system in a day," she told him.
"I used to win arguments faster."
"Maybe that's part of the problem."
Norah was rinsing the saucepan when he spoke. "Miss Bennett, do you know how to prepare anything besides soup?"
"A few things."
"Name one."
"Rice with eggs."
"Another."
"Potatoes."
Vincent sighed. "You've opened up an exciting culinary world."
She turned toward him. "You asked."
Enzo laughed aloud, then stopped when Vincent glanced at him. To Norah's surprise, the boss's eyes held the faintest trace of amusement.
He rose slowly. When dizziness struck, he held the counter and waited instead of pretending nothing was wrong. Dr. Shah stood nearby but did not grab him. Norah watched him accept help from the person he had hired to provide it. She had never seen a man like Vincent accept limits without turning them into someone else's punishment.
That evening, Enzo asked her to help the new kitchen manager prepare ingredients for the following day. As she carried a tray past the service corridor, she heard two guards talking in the alcove beside the loading door.
"Pike wants an update," one said.
"Tell him she hasn't gone upstairs."
Norah stopped behind the wall.
"He's going to get impatient," the second man replied. "We should've brought somebody from the old catering company."
"The old staff were watched too closely. A cleaner's easier."
A door opened. Norah moved before they could see her, carrying the tray into the refrigerator room and setting it down with shaking hands. There was a name now, spoken inside the estate: Pike. At least one guard was helping Calvin. Probably two.
Her first instinct was to run. But there was no safe place to run to. Her apartment had already been photographed. Her brother was missing. If she quit, Calvin would know she'd refused.
She remembered Dr. Shah's calm offer. Independent support. A record of the messages. A decision made before anyone forced her to act.
Norah walked to the staff office and asked to use the phone. The receptionist handed it over without question. She called the victim-support number and spoke in short sentences while staring at the wall.
"Someone is threatening me over a debt I didn't sign for," she said. "They're trying to make me steal information from my employer. They know where I live."
The advocate listened and helped her plan immediate safety steps. She recommended preserving the messages, considering a police report, and finding somewhere she could stay temporarily. She explained that being related to someone who borrowed money did not automatically make Norah legally responsible for the loan.
That last sentence left Norah speechless.
"He told me it was my debt now," she whispered.
"People who use threats don't necessarily tell you the law," the advocate replied.
Norah wrote down the number of a legal aid office and a local police contact. For the first time, she could imagine the debt as something to challenge rather than a sentence she had to serve.
At seven, she crossed the foyer to clock out. Enzo intercepted her near the staircase.
"The boss wants to see you before you go."
Her stomach clenched. "Why?"
"He has a question about tomorrow's food."
Norah followed him, afraid the request itself had been arranged by the guards. She entered the study and found Vincent standing beside his desk, holding a printed photograph.
Her photograph.
The same image Calvin had sent her that afternoon.
"Where did you get that?" she whispered.
Vincent laid it down. "One of my security monitors recorded a man taking it from the back corridor. Enzo found the file while reviewing access logs. Then the man sent it to a number linked to one of our employees."
Norah looked at Enzo. He was no longer smiling.
"I haven't done anything," she said quickly.
"I know," Vincent replied. "That's why you're still standing here."
He moved away from the desk, leaving a clear path to the door. "I'm going to ask you a question. You can answer or walk out. Either way, nobody is going to touch you."
Norah stared at him.
"Who is threatening you?"
She thought about the picture of her apartment, the fifty thousand dollars, the men whispering by the loading door, and her brother's face in the photograph she carried in her purse.
Then she told him.
Everything.
Vincent listened without interrupting. When she finished, he looked so angry that Norah nearly regretted speaking. But his anger wasn't aimed at her.
"Did you ever sign a loan agreement?" he asked.
"No."
"Did you guarantee Tommy's debt?"
"No."
"Then this isn't a collection. It's extortion."
Norah gripped the edge of her tote. "They'll come to my building."
"We can arrange a safe place tonight while you decide whether to make a report."
"I don't want to owe you anything."
Vincent looked at her a long time. "Then don't. The room will be yours without conditions. You can leave whenever you choose."
She wanted to believe him. Yet the most frightening men she knew were the ones who spoke about protection as though it were a gift and collected on it later.
"Why?" she asked.
Vincent looked toward the empty white bowl on his desk. "Because you made me dinner when you thought nobody was watching. And someone decided that kindness made you easy to use."
He paused. "I know what it's like when another person turns your fear into a weapon."
Before she could answer, Enzo's phone buzzed. He read the message and went pale.
"Boss. We found the guard who took the photo."
"Where?"
"At the service gate. He tried to leave with the night crew."
"Hold him for the authorities. Don't question him alone."
Enzo hesitated. "There's more. He wasn't only taking pictures of Norah. He accessed the kitchen's delivery schedules on the day you were poisoned."
Vincent's face lost all color.
May you like
Norah looked from one man to the other. She had thought Calvin Pike wanted money and a ledger. Now she understood that the men chasing her might be tied to the attack that had nearly killed Vincent.
And the most frightening possibility was that the person who had poisoned him had never truly left the mansion.
