Chapter 3 - Someone Was Watching the BathroomI didn’t show Maxwell the photograph until Julian left.
Not because I trusted Julian.
Because I didn’t.
The moment the bedroom door closed, I crossed the room, handed Maxwell my phone, and watched his face turn cold.
He enlarged the image.
“Where was this taken from?”
“Looks high.”
He studied the marble wall.
“There’s no camera in my bathroom.”
“Apparently somebody forgot to tell the camera.”
His thumb moved over the screen.
Unknown number.
No identifying information.
Maxwell handed it back.
“Delete nothing.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
His gaze sharpened.
“You’re becoming irritatingly predictable.”
“I learned from my new boss.”
For half a second, that almost-smile returned.
Then Maxwell reached for his phone.
He called someone named Nico.
“Third floor. Alone.”
Nothing more.
Three minutes later, a large man with close-cropped hair entered.
Nico Santoro.
Head of household security.
He had the posture of somebody who had broken bones professionally and never lost sleep over it.
Maxwell showed him the photograph.
Nico didn’t react visibly.
Which told me he was furious.
“Bathroom gets swept every Monday,” he said.
“Apparently not well enough.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“No.”
Nico frowned.
Maxwell nodded toward me.
“Someone knows Martha saw movement. If you tear the house apart now, they know we’re looking.”
Nico considered it.
“Quiet sweep.”
“Start with the bathroom. Then my bedroom.”
Nico looked at me.
“You see anyone upstairs?”
“No.”
“Anyone ask why you were going up?”
“Delaney sent me.”
His jaw tightened.
“Of course she did.”
“You don’t trust her?”
“I trust three people.”
He looked at Maxwell.
“Two are in this room.”
I wasn’t sure whether that meant me.
Probably not.
Twenty minutes later, Nico found the camera.
It was hidden inside a decorative smoke detector above the tub.
Wireless.
Custom installed.
No manufacturer label.
“Who has physical access to this floor?” I asked.
Nico answered.
“Pierce. Delaney. Julian. Me. Two cleaning staff with scheduled access. Physical therapist. Maxwell’s attorney when requested.”
“That’s not exactly a short list.”
Maxwell said nothing.
Nico removed the device carefully.
“I can trace where it transmits.”
“Don’t disconnect it yet.”
Nico looked at Maxwell.
Maxwell’s gray eyes hardened.
“Give them something to watch.”
That afternoon we staged normalcy.
I pushed Maxwell through his routine.
Fresh shirt.
Lunch.
Medication.
He pretended to swallow every pill.
I secretly sealed them in small labeled bags.
At four, physical therapist Aaron Briggs arrived.
He seemed kind.
Maybe too kind.
A former college wrestler in his early thirties, Aaron had apparently worked with Maxwell since the second month after the crash.
He flexed Maxwell’s legs.
Tested tone.
Checked range of motion.
“Anything new?” he asked.
“No,” Maxwell replied.
Aaron nodded sympathetically.
“We keep trying.”
I watched his hands.
Professional.
Careful.
Then he touched Maxwell’s right foot.
Maxwell’s toes almost moved.
Almost.
I saw the effort it took to keep them still.
Aaron didn’t seem to notice.
After the session, I followed him into the hallway.
“Can incomplete spinal injuries recover after fourteen months?”
Aaron glanced at me.
“Depends.”
“Could someone regain small voluntary movement unexpectedly?”
“Sure.”
“Would that be significant?”
“Potentially huge.”
“Then why would Dr. Pierce dismiss toe movement as meaningless?”
Aaron stopped.
“Who moved a toe?”
I had made a mistake.
His expression changed.
I smiled quickly.
“Nursing home patient from years ago.”
He didn’t believe me.
But he nodded.
“Pierce is conservative.”
“That a polite word?”
Aaron lowered his voice.
“Pierce likes certainty.”
He walked away.
I returned to Maxwell’s room.
“You almost blew it,” Maxwell said.
“You heard?”
“Door was open.”
“He says recovery is possible.”
“We knew that.”
“No. We suspected it.”
He regarded me.
“You like evidence.”
“I like surviving accusations.”
That shut both of us up.
Nico returned after dark.
The camera transmitted to a receiver inside the property.
“Where?”
“Old east wing.”
Maxwell’s eyes narrowed.
“That section’s mostly unused.”
“Exactly.”
At eleven that night, Nico and I went looking.
Maxwell wanted to come.
I refused.
“You’re the target.”
“I own the house.”
“And I’m apparently the woman who tells you no.”
Nico coughed into his fist to hide a laugh.
Maxwell looked insulted.
“Take a radio.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Call every sixty seconds.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Martha.”
“Going.”
The east wing smelled like dust and old wood.
Most furniture was sheet-covered.
We found the receiver inside a locked storage room.
Nico picked the lock in ten seconds.
A laptop sat on a table.
Live camera feeds filled the screen.
Kitchen.
Front hall.
Garage.
Maxwell’s bedroom.
Bathroom.
And an angle inside his private office.
“Jesus,” I whispered.
Nico touched the keyboard.
A password box appeared.
Then footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Nico killed the monitor.
We stepped behind a tall cabinet.
Someone unlocked the storage-room door.
Vera Delaney entered.
My heart hammered.
She walked straight to the laptop.
Turned it on.
Typed the password.
Nico silently took out his phone and recorded.
Delaney opened a folder.
Video clips.
Dozens.
Then she connected a flash drive.
One file name was visible.
M.R. MOBILITY EVENTS
My stomach tightened.
They had cataloged Maxwell’s movements.
Delaney clicked a video.
Maxwell sleeping.
His leg twitching.
Another clip.
His left hand rubbing his thigh.
Another.
His right foot shifting beneath a blanket.
A man’s voice suddenly came from Delaney’s phone.
Speaker mode.
“Anything today?”
Pierce.
Delaney replied quietly.
“The maid noticed.”
“What exactly?”
“Cold water caused movement.”
“Reflex?”
“She didn’t think so.”
Pierce cursed.
“What does Maxwell think?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were supposed to keep her downstairs.”
“I did.”
“Then why did you send her up?”
Silence.
Delaney’s voice dropped.
“I didn’t.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
Nico looked at me.
I looked back.
If Delaney hadn’t sent me upstairs—
Who had?
Pierce spoke again.
“Tomorrow morning, increase the dose.”
“Which one?”
“The blue vial.”
My breath stopped.
Delaney whispered, “That much could affect respiration again.”
Pierce answered with chilling calm.
“That is the point.”
Nico’s eyes turned deadly.
Then a floorboard creaked beneath my shoe.
Delaney spun around.
“Who’s there?”
The room exploded into motion.
Nico pushed me behind him.
Delaney ran for the door.
He caught her before she reached it.
She screamed once.
Then stopped when Nico pinned her wrist safely behind her.
“No!” she gasped. “You don’t understand!”
“Explain quickly,” Nico said.
“Pierce is making me do it.”
“Why?”
“He has my son.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Tears filled Delaney’s eyes.
“He owes them money. Gambling debt. Pierce said if I didn’t cooperate, people would collect from Daniel.”
Nico’s expression didn’t soften.
“You overheated Maxwell’s bath.”
“No!”
She shook her head violently.
“I swear I didn’t. Pierce told me to increase his medication, but I never touched the water.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone buzzed.
Another unknown message.
This time there was no photograph.
Only five words.
ASK MAXWELL ABOUT THE CRASH.
I looked at Nico.
“What?”
I showed him.
His face went blank.
“Don’t mention that to anyone except Maxwell.”
“Why?”
“Because the crash wasn’t an accident.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
Nico looked toward the hallway.
“Fourteen months ago, someone cut the brake line on Maxwell’s SUV.”
I suddenly understood.
The paralysis.
The medications.
The surveillance.
The fear.
Someone hadn’t begun trying to kill Maxwell after he started recovering.
May you like
They had been trying to kill him from the beginning.
And for fourteen months, they had been living under the same roof.
Related Stories
