Chapter 4 - The Person Inside My House
I locked down the estate before sunrise.
Thirty-two employees.
Twelve security men.
Four household staff.
Three drivers.
Everyone questioned.
Nobody left.
Clara sat with the twins in the breakfast room while Marcus and I reviewed access logs.
The blue night-light had come from Sophie's bedroom.
Not a copy.
The real one.
We confirmed it because Clara had scratched the underside two months earlier while changing batteries.
Someone had entered the room and removed it.
That meant Patricia had an insider.
"Who had access yesterday?" I asked.
Marcus read the list.
"Nancy. Clara. Two cleaners. Mrs. Nolan. Your assistant. Me. Three security men."
"Patricia?"
"No."
"Daniel?"
"In custody."
I looked through the glass toward the kitchen.
Clara was spreading jam on toast.
Avery said something.
Clara smiled.
For one ugly second, suspicion tried to enter my mind.
I hated myself for it.
Marcus noticed.
"Don't."
I looked at him.
"You thinking what I think you're thinking?"
"No."
"Good."
He knew me too well.
At ten, Mrs. Nolan cracked.
She had worked nights in the household for eight months.
Widowed.
Two grandsons.
No criminal history.
She cried before Marcus finished the second question.
Patricia had paid her five thousand dollars to provide schedules.
Then ten thousand more for access to Sophie's room.
Mrs. Nolan insisted she never knew anyone would hurt the girls.
Clara stood in the doorway listening.
"She paid you?"
Mrs. Nolan sobbed.
"I needed money."
Clara's expression hardened.
"So did I."
The sentence landed like a slap.
Clara had entered my house with less money than anyone.
She never sold a schedule.
Never copied a code.
Never took so much as leftover food without asking.
Need did not create betrayal.
Choice did.
I had Mrs. Nolan removed and placed under police protection after she agreed to cooperate.
By noon, she gave us texts from Patricia.
One message read:
CLARA IS THE PROBLEM. IF SHE GOES, THE GIRLS BECOME EASIER.
Easier.
Like children were doors.
I nearly crushed the phone in my hand.
Clara read the line over my shoulder.
"Now do you believe me?"
"About what?"
"She didn't hate me because I was overstepping."
"No."
"She hated me because I made them harder to control."
"Yes."
Clara looked toward the playroom.
"I need to tell you something."
I knew from her tone I would not like it.
"What?"
"Three months ago, Patricia offered me money."
My body went still.
"How much?"
"Fifty thousand dollars."
"For what?"
"To resign."
I stared.
"You didn't tell me."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I thought she was insecure."
"Fifty thousand dollars is not insecurity."
"I know that now."
"What did you say?"
"I laughed."
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
"Then?"
"She increased it to seventy-five."
"And?"
"I told her I liked my health insurance."
I stared at her.
"You rejected seventy-five thousand dollars because of health insurance?"
"And the girls."
There it was.
Always the girls.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you were dating her."
"That didn't answer the question."
She looked at me.
"Would you have believed me?"
I did not answer.
Her eyes softened.
"Exactly."
That hurt because it was true.
Patricia had spent months creating a version of Clara in my mind.
Too attached.
Too ambitious.
Too poor.
Too close.
And I had believed enough of it to fake a trip just to catch her doing something wrong.
"Clara."
"Yes?"
"I owe you an apology."
Her eyebrows rose.
"Should I sit down?"
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
I exhaled.
"I judged you because Patricia made your loyalty look suspicious."
Clara said nothing.
"I came home yesterday hoping to catch you."
"I guessed."
"You did?"
"You were hiding in your own house."
"That was discreet."
"You wear four-thousand-dollar shoes."
I looked down.
She had a point.
"I was wrong."
Clara's teasing expression faded.
"Thank you."
"I almost fired you."
"I know."
"How?"
"Nancy told me."
I closed my eyes.
"Of course she did."
"She also said you'd regret it."
"She enjoys being right."
"Most women do."
I looked at her.
She smiled.
Then the front gate alarm sounded.
Marcus entered immediately.
"We have a vehicle approaching."
"Who?"
He checked the feed.
His face changed.
"Patricia."
I stood.
"Let her in."
Clara grabbed my arm.
"Ethan."
I looked at her hand.
She released it.
"Don't do something stupid."
"Define stupid."
"Anything that involves a gun."
"That's broad."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
Patricia entered the foyer five minutes later wearing cream trousers, a silk blouse, and no visible fear.
She looked at Clara first.
Then me.
"You kept her."
"Yes."
Patricia laughed.
"Of course."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're predictable when guilty."
Clara stiffened.
I stepped between them.
"What do you want?"
Patricia looked at me.
"To save you."
"From what?"
"Her."
She pointed at Clara.
"She wants your money."
Clara laughed once.
Patricia turned.
"You think this is funny?"
"I think it's lazy."
Patricia's face tightened.
Clara continued.
"You've been trying to make him afraid of me for months because you couldn't make his daughters afraid of me."
Patricia smiled slowly.
"Do you know what happens to women who confuse kindness with importance?"
I moved before I realized it.
I was inches from Patricia.
"Careful."
She looked up at me.
"See? That's exactly what I mean."
"What?"
"She's inside your head."
"No."
I glanced at Clara.
"She's inside my house."
Patricia's smile vanished.
I lowered my voice.
"And she's staying."
The next words came from Patricia almost as a whisper.
"Madeline said the same thing."
My blood froze.
"What did you say?"
Patricia realized too late.
Clara looked at me.
I looked back at Patricia.
"Madeline said what?"
Patricia stepped backward.
I grabbed her wrist.
"Answer me."
"Ethan."
"What did my wife say?"
Her eyes filled with something that looked almost like hatred.
"She said I would never take her place."
The foyer went silent.
I released her.
Patricia rubbed her wrist.
"You're insane," she said.
"No."
I looked at Marcus.
"Call the detectives."
Patricia laughed.
"You don't have enough."
"Maybe not."
Then Clara spoke from behind me.
"But I do."
Everyone turned.
Clara reached into her apron pocket.
She held up her phone.
"I recorded everything."
May you like
Patricia's face changed.
For the first time since I had known her, she looked afraid.
