Chapter 25 The Blind Spot
The silence in my office tasted like failure.
I stood at the window watching the morning mist cling to the manicured grounds while the perimeter guards changed shifts below.
They moved with the sharp and disciplined efficiency I paid for, but despite their competence, we had failed.
Marco was dead. His body was gone, the cellar was bleached clean, and the staff had been fed a convenient lie about him stealing silver to explain his disappearance.
It should have been a neat ending to a messy problem, but it didn't feel like an ending. It felt like a pause before a second strike.
I turned back to the desk where Giovanni was waiting.
He looked wrecked, the dark circles under his eyes bruising his pale skin after a night spent scrubbing digital logs.
"Show me the phone records," I said.
Giovanni handed me a tablet with the decrypted messages Marco had received before we caught him.
The texts were short and transactional, typical runner talk about packages delivered and payments made.
"He was definitely the one planting the items,"
Giovanni said, rubbing his face. "The timeline matches the access logs perfectly."
"I know he was the runner," I replied, tossing the tablet onto the mahogany desk. "But he wasn't the architect."
I thought about the server I had interrogated.
Marco barely finished high school. He was a boy who probably wanted quick cash for expensive sneakers, not a mastermind capable of waging psychological warfare.
"Explain the camera loop," I said.
Giovanni stiffened as though he knew where I was going.
"The security feed on the third floor looped for five minutes to hide the intruder," I continued.
"That requires sophisticated code and a deep understanding of our system architecture. Marco couldn't program a microwave, Giovanni. Do you really believe he hacked a military-grade security system from his cell phone?"
Giovanni looked at the floor. "No."
"So who did?"
The question hung in the heavy air between us.
"There is a second player," I said.
"Someone with technical skills is still inside this house. Maybe Marco used a device he was given, but someone built it for him. Someone who knows exactly where to look."
I poured a cup of black coffee and drank it standing up.
"We cut off a finger, but the hand is still reaching for her."
"The girl seems calm," Giovanni offered. "She hasn't caused trouble since the lockdown ended."
"The girl is terrified," I corrected him, my voice hard. "And frankly, I do not care about her feelings. I care that her fear makes her unpredictable. Unpredictable assets are dangerous."
I drank the coffee, feeling the bitterness coat my throat.
"If someone is hacking our systems, they are doing it to watch her. And if they are watching her, they are watching the family wing. That puts Jasmine at risk."
Giovanni stiffened at the mention of my daughter. "I will organize a sweep immediately."
"No. I'll do it. You check the perimeter logs again."
Giovanni left to organise the team while I retrieved a signal detector from my safe.
It was a small black device designed to pick up unauthorised transmissions, usually used to sweep for bugs in meeting rooms.
I walked out into the hallway where the device hummed quietly, picking up the standard background radiation of the house like Wi-Fi and security sensors.
I paused outside Lilith’s door, but the silence from inside suggested she was either sleeping or staring at the wall.
I moved on, methodically sweeping the guest rooms and storage closets without finding a single spike until I reached the end of the hall.
The old nursery door stood closed, but I noticed the lock was disengaged. Frowning at the security lapse, I pushed the door open.
The air inside smelled of stale lavender and dust, and the furniture stood covered in white sheets like ghosts in the dim light. I stepped inside and turned on the detector.
It beeped immediately.
A sharp spike appeared on the small screen, indicating a transmission source nearby. I walked forward, sweeping the device until the signal grew stronger near the center of the room.
I looked down at the floor and saw that the dust had been disturbed. There were small footprints, along with scuff marks suggesting someone had been moving around in here.
I followed the signal to the corner of the room where a stack of old boxes was piled high. The detector beeped faster as I approached.
I moved the top box aside and then the second.
And there it was.
A small black device was wedged into the gap between the skirting board and the wall. A tiny glass lens glinted in the shadows.
It was a modern, wireless camera pointed directly at the centre of the room.
I pulled it out. The plastic was warm to the touch, which meant it was running and recording right now.
I stared at the lens and felt a cold fury wash over me.
Someone had walked into my home and planted a device to spy on my occupants, mocking my security and laughing at my defenses.
I crushed the device in my hand until the plastic snapped and cut into my palm.
I left the nursery and walked fast back to my office. I sat at my computer and pulled up the internal network logs, running a search for unauthorised data traffic.
I found it almost immediately. A thin stream of data was hidden under the noise of the security updates, broadcasting video. But it wasn't going outside the house.
The signal destination was a local IP address inside the villa's own network.
I stared at the screen. The spy was sending the video to another room in this house.
I traced the address to a hardline connection in the West Wing attic, a space that was supposed to be sealed storage. It shared a ventilation shaft with the nursery and with Jasmine’s room.
I took my gun from the drawer and didn't bother calling Giovanni. If the spy was monitoring the network, they would see an alarm.
I moved quickly, taking the service stairs two at a time until I reached the attic landing. The heavy steel door was locked, so I keyed in my override code.
The light turned green.
I pushed the door open and raised my weapon, stepping into the dark, hot space. It smelled of insulation and old furniture, but in the far corner, a blue glow illuminated the dust.
I walked toward it silently and found a makeshift workspace hidden between two wardrobes. There was a folding table set up with three monitors and a laptop.
The chair was empty, but when I touched the leather seat, it was cold. No one had been here for hours. This was an automated station, a remote hub designed to run without a pilot.
I looked at the screens, and my jaw tightened.
The first screen showed the main gate. The second screen showed the kitchen. The third screen showed the hallway outside Jasmine’s room.
My grip on the gun tightened until the metal bit into my skin. They were watching my daughter’s door.
I looked at the fourth screen.
It showed Lilith’s room.
The camera was positioned high up, giving a perfect view of the entire space. And it wasn't just a live feed.
There were folders open on the desktop with thumbnails that made disgust curl in my stomach.
They were recordings. Lilith sleeping. Lilith changing clothes. Lilith everywhere.
This wasn't surveillance. This was a collection. This was a violation and someone was collecting her.
I looked down at the laptop on the table. A file transfer window was open, showing that a video file had just been sent.
The spy was taunting her. They were letting her know she was in a fishbowl.
I reached for the cables to tear the system out of the wall, but before I could touch them, the centre screen flickered.
The live feed of Lilith cut to black.
Then the text appeared on the screen in bright green letters against the black background.
I see you too, Dante.
I stared at the words. The spy wasn't in the attic, but they were watching the attic. They knew I was here.
A second line of text appeared below the first.
Do you like the show?
I typed on the keyboard, my fingers heavy with rage. I am coming for you.
The cursor blinked, and a response appeared instantly.
You can't stop what is already in motion.
I heard a sound then.
A heavy mechanical thud echoed through the ventilation shafts from the floors below. It was the sound of the magnetic locks on the exterior doors disengaging.
Then the lights in the attic died.
Through the floorboards, I heard the hum of the generator dying as the main power grid was cut.
The monitors in front of me went black, leaving me in total darkness.