Chapter 6 - Someone Inside the HouseVincent wanted Claire gone from the estate within twenty minutes.
Not fired.
Protected.
“There’s a car waiting,” he said.
“No.”
“You received a threat.”
“I received a piece of paper.”
“From someone who may have poisoned my children.”
“Which is why I’m not leaving them.”
Vincent stared at her.
“This is not negotiable.”
Claire folded her arms.
“Then fire me.”
“What?”
“If I’m an employee, fire me. Otherwise, I’m staying.”
“You think stubbornness is impressive?”
“No. I think whoever sent that note wants me away from Ethan and Noah.”
“That is exactly why you should leave.”
“Or exactly why I shouldn’t.”
Vincent paced across his office.
Mrs. Harper remained silent near the doorway, looking like she was enjoying none of this but agreeing with Claire.
Vincent noticed.
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t said anything, sir.”
“You’re thinking loudly.”
Mrs. Harper almost smiled.
Claire said, “Increase security. Move the boys if necessary. But sending me away tells whoever did this that intimidation works.”
Vincent stopped pacing.
“You have family?”
“A sister in Oregon.”
“Anyone local?”
“No.”
“Then you stay in the east guest wing. Security outside the corridor.”
Claire nodded.
“Fine.”
“And you don’t wander around alone.”
“I’m not twelve.”
“Humor me.”
“Fine.”
The note went to police.
The paper and envelope were examined for fingerprints and residue.
Detective Monroe interviewed every employee with access to the house.
Twenty-three people.
Chefs.
Drivers.
Cleaners.
Gardeners.
Security officers.
Maintenance workers.
Personal assistants.
Mrs. Harper.
Even Claire.
By afternoon, the estate felt like a corporate crime scene.
The twins noticed.
“Why is there a policeman near the kitchen?” Noah asked.
“He likes snacks,” Claire said.
“Really?”
“No.”
Ethan rolled his eyes.
“She’s trying not to tell us.”
Claire sighed.
“You two are exhausting.”
“That means we’re getting better,” Ethan said.
She couldn’t argue with that.
Their medical improvement continued.
After forty-eight hours away from their old bedrooms, headaches had decreased dramatically.
Nausea almost disappeared.
Their appetite returned.
Dr. Cole was no longer involved.
Vincent brought in a pediatric specialist from New York, Dr. Samantha Reyes, who reviewed the environmental findings and immediately ordered targeted blood and urine testing.
That evening she met with Vincent and Claire.
“The early results support repeated low-level chemical exposure,” she said.
Vincent’s hands tightened on the table.
“Permanent damage?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Tell me the worst.”
“I don’t believe that helps.”
“I need to know.”
Reyes looked at him steadily.
“There are possible neurological, respiratory, hepatic, and developmental effects depending on compound, concentration, and exposure duration.”
Vincent went pale.
“But,” Reyes continued, “their rapid improvement is encouraging. Children can be remarkably resilient once exposure ends.”
Claire asked, “So removing them from those bedrooms helped.”
“Yes.”
Vincent stared at the floor.
Reyes added, “For now, neither child should return to the west wing.”
“They won’t.”
“Possibly not to the property until remediation is complete.”
Vincent nodded.
“I’ll move them tomorrow.”
Claire looked at him.
“Where?”
“My mother owns a house in Bedford.”
The twins were thrilled by the idea.
“Grandma has horses!” Noah shouted.
“One horse,” Ethan corrected.
“Still horses.”
“One is not plural.”
“It is if you count the statue.”
Claire began packing.
At 10:30 that night, she stepped into the guest corridor.
A security officer should have been outside.
The chair was empty.
Claire stopped.
“Mr. Briggs?”
No answer.
She immediately stepped back into the room and locked the door.
Her phone was on the bedside table.
She reached for it.
The lights went out.
Both boys woke.
“Claire?”
“Stay in bed.”
Emergency lights should have activated.
They didn’t.
That terrified her more than darkness.
Claire called Vincent.
No signal.
The estate used internal signal repeaters.
If those were down too—
Someone had disabled more than power.
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Claire moved the boys into the bathroom.
“Lock this after me.”
Noah’s voice shook.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere far.”
“Don’t leave.”
Claire crouched.
“Listen carefully. Stay together. Don’t open this door unless you hear me or your dad.”
Ethan grabbed her hand.
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“So are you.”
Claire looked at him.
“Yes.”
That seemed to help more than lying.
“But scared people can still make smart decisions.”
She closed the bathroom door.
Heard the lock click.
Then she picked up the heavy brass lamp from the nightstand.
The bedroom door handle moved.
Slowly.
Someone was trying it.
Claire stepped behind the wall.
The handle stopped.
Then came a soft knock.
“Miss Morgan?”
A male voice.
She recognized it.
“Mr. Briggs?”
“Yes.”
The security guard.
Claire didn’t open the door.
“Why were you gone?”
“Power panel tripped. Mr. Moretti wants everyone downstairs.”
“Where is he?”
“Foyer.”
“Tell him to call me.”
“Phones are down.”
Claire gripped the lamp tighter.
“How did you know I was inside?”
Silence.
Then—
“Open the door, Miss Morgan.”
Her skin went cold.
“Why?”
“We need to evacuate.”
“What happened?”
“Electrical fire.”
She smelled the air.
No smoke.
No alarm.
Nothing.
Claire stepped backward.
“Go get Mrs. Harper.”
Another silence.
Then the handle jerked harder.
“Open the door.”
Claire ran toward the bathroom.
A violent crash exploded behind her.
The bedroom door burst inward.
Claire screamed.
A dark figure entered.
Not Briggs.
Wearing a maintenance jacket.
Face partly covered.
Claire swung the lamp.
It connected with the person’s shoulder.
He cursed.
Claire ran.
He grabbed the back of her cardigan.
Fabric tore.
She slammed her elbow backward.
He released her.
Then a second crash came from the hallway.
Someone shouted.
The attacker turned.
Vincent Moretti hit him with enough force to send both men into the dresser.
Security officers flooded the room.
The attacker struggled.
Then stopped when three guards pinned him to the floor.
Vincent rose.
“Claire?”
“The boys.”
She ran to the bathroom.
“Ethan! Noah!”
The lock opened.
Both boys launched themselves at her.
Vincent dropped to his knees and wrapped all three in his arms.
For several seconds no one spoke.
Then Claire looked toward the attacker.
A guard pulled off his hood.
Mrs. Harper entered the room.
She saw his face.
And gasped.
Vincent looked up.
“Who is he?”
Mrs. Harper stared at the man.
“That’s Daniel Price.”
“Who?”
“Our former HVAC technician.”
Vincent stood.
“Former?”
Mrs. Harper’s face was white.
“I fired him nine months ago.”
Claire felt the room shift around her.
Nine months.
The boys became sick eight months ago.
Vincent walked toward Price.
“Why were you in my house?”
Price said nothing.
“Why were you near my children?”
Silence.
“Why did you change the duct?”
Price slowly smiled.
Vincent lunged, but security restrained him.
Price looked past him toward Claire.
“You should’ve taken the warning.”
Claire stared.
“You sent the note.”
His smile widened.
Then Detective Monroe’s voice came from the doorway.
“Daniel Price, don’t say another word unless you want to make my job easier.”
Price’s smile disappeared.
Monroe handcuffed him.
As he was led away, Claire noticed something.
He didn’t look at the twins.
He didn’t look at Vincent.
He looked at Mrs. Harper.
May you like
And for one brief second—
Mrs. Harper looked terrified.
Related Stories
