Chapter 9: New House
Months Later
The clock was blinking again.
She didn’t remember turning it off. She didn’t remember falling asleep. But somehow, she was fully dressed, shoes on, sitting in the hallway with her purse clutched against her ribs like a shield.
Linda blinked slowly, trying to reattach herself to the moment.
It was 2:13 a.m. The apartment hummed quietly refrigerator, pipes, the distant sound of tires on wet pavement. A single lamp was on in the corner. She hadn’t turned that on either.
She stood, her knees cracking beneath her weight, and walked to the kitchen. A full glass of water sat on the counter. Half a pill lay next to it, crushed.
She didn’t take sleeping pills.
She never had.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the water but paused. Watched it instead. Watched the way it sat perfectly still, like it had been placed there by someone careful.
Her phone buzzed.
A message.
MARK:
“Hey. Didn’t hear from you tonight. You okay?”
She stared at it, then slowly typed:
LINDA:
“I think they’re drugging me.”
She didn’t hit send.
Instead, she deleted it. Closed the screen. Walked to the window.
Across the street, a black car had parked hours ago. It hadn’t moved. No one got in. No one got out.
The driver’s seat was empty. But the engine was running.
She pulled the curtain closed.
The next morning, Linda sat across from Mark in the corner booth of a café neither of them liked. She wore oversized sunglasses and hadn’t touched her coffee.
“I’m not crazy,” she said quietly. “I know what they’re doing.”
Mark leaned forward. “Who?”
“Gary. Maya. That architect friend Calvin. They’ve been watching me. They have access to my laptop. My phone. They’ve rewritten things. I have gaps. There are days I don’t remember.”
“Linda...”
“I’m telling you this now,” she said, her voice sharper. “Because soon, it’s going to look like I lost it. They’ll try to make me look unstable. Dangerous. But I’m not.”
Mark didn’t answer right away. He stirred his coffee slowly, avoiding her eyes.
“You said the same thing two weeks ago,” he murmured.
Linda stiffened.
“I’m sorry,” he added quickly. “I just— I need to understand what’s real. And what isn’t.”
She exhaled, slow and deliberate. “What’s real is that Gary’s company is laundering funds through shell contracts. That Maya’s not who she says she is. That Calvin offered him a deal that bypasses every ethics code we ever signed in civil engineering. And that—”
She stopped.
Outside the café window, a woman stood across the street, staring directly at her.
Veronika.
Dressed in black, elegant, unreadable.
Then she turned and vanished into the crowd.
Linda shot to her feet.
“Linda—”
“I’m fine,” she said too fast. “I just need... I need to go.”
She left the café without finishing her drink, her coat half-buttoned, her mind spinning.
Sunlight filtered through the smart-tinted windows of the new mansion long, golden beams that made the polished floors glow. The house awoke gradually: music at low volume, soft murmurs from the AI, coffee brewing in the kitchen like it knew their exact routine.
Gary stood shirtless at the edge of the private balcony, overlooking the vineyard behind the house. His phone vibrated in his hand.
CALVIN:
“We should talk. Mark’s asking too many questions.”
Gary didn’t respond. Not yet.
Behind him, Veronika’s voice drifted from the nursery. “She’s awake.”
He walked inside slowly, past the hallway lined with blueprints and motion sensors. Into the soft, curated warmth of the child’s room sunflowers painted on the walls, plush white rugs, a rocking chair that had cost more than his mother’s car.
Veronika held their daughter, Alina, against her shoulder. The baby was cooing quietly, her hands grasping the air.
Gary smiled faintly. “She looks like you.”
Veronika smirked. “She’ll be smarter.”
He kissed her temple and stepped back.
“She has your mind,” Veronika added. “And mine. Imagine what we could build for her.”
They left the nursery together, Alina sleeping again. In the hallway, Calvin stood waiting with a tablet in hand.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said flatly.
“What kind?” Gary asked.
“Mark is asking questions. About our funding. About the property titles. He’s also sleeping with Linda, which means we’ve got a very loose wire in our system.”
Gary’s face tightened. “Then cut it.”
Veronika raised an eyebrow. “You mean... her?”
“She’s spiraling already,” Calvin said. “Won’t take much.”
Gary looked down at the message still open on his phone. Then at his daughter’s closed door.
“We’ll keep her under watch,” he said. “If she crosses a line... we’ll erase it.”
Veronika leaned in close, her voice silk over steel.
“She already crossed it.”
The morning light fell in neat lines across the marble floor as Veronika adjusted the hem of her robe and led the maid through the vast, echoing corridors.
“You’ll start in the east wing,” she said, her voice smooth but commanding. “That’s where the guest rooms are. We’re not using them right now, but I want them pristine. No dust. No shadows.”
The maid a girl no older than twenty nodded quickly, trying to keep pace.
Veronika moved like a general inspecting her territory. She stopped in front of a hallway panel, gesturing to a glowing console embedded into the wall.
“This is Craig. The AI. You’ll speak to him for everything: schedules, cleaning logs, food orders, alerts. He’s synced to your voice now. Say something.”
The girl hesitated. “Um... Hello?”
A gentle chime. A soft, masculine voice responded.
“Hello, Chloe. Welcome to Jackson House. Your access is now active.”
Veronika watched her flinch with amusement.
“There’s one camera in each room. Thermal. Motion. Don’t touch them. Don’t ask questions. This house learns you.”
She turned, heels clicking, and passed through the lounge where dust cloths still covered antique furniture. The renovation team would arrive in the afternoon to finish installing Craig’s final sensory layers: biometric doors, air-quality adaptives, and the new firewall network.
“Keep Alina’s room quiet,” Veronika added over her shoulder. “If she wakes up early, I’ll know it’s your fault.”
They moved into the main foyer, where the sunlight spilled across the grand staircase like something from a magazine spread. Veronika paused at the bottom step to glance at her reflection in the mirror: flawless, commanding, and composed.
She caught the sound of keys at the front door.
Gary.
He was already dressed dark trousers, a collared shirt, sleeves rolled. His phone buzzed in his hand.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, walking past without stopping.
“Where are you going?” Veronika asked.
He kept walking, already reaching for his keys.
“Meeting Calvin. Zoning update for the next phase.”
“You said we’d review the new kitchen design together this morning.”
“I’ll look at it later.”
Veronika’s jaw twitched, but she didn’t argue. Not in front of the maid.
She watched him walk out confident, driven, distracted. Always halfway out the door. Just like he’d been with Linda.
Just like he’d be with her… unless she made herself irreplaceable.