Chapter 11 - THE BETRAYAL INSIDE THE HOUSE

The Mercer mansion had never felt more dangerous.

Not because of enemies outside.

Not because of threats at the gate.

Because the danger was wearing a familiar face.

Every person inside my home became a question.

Every conversation became a possible lie.

Every memory became something I had to examine.

Prescott stood beside me.

“What are you thinking?”

I looked at the security monitors.

“I’m thinking someone has been controlling this house for years.”

He was silent.

“And I let them.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

I looked at him.

“That’s the problem.”

I had built my life around knowing.

Knowing my enemies.

Knowing my allies.

Knowing every weakness.

But someone had hidden right in front of me.

We searched every room.

Every office.

Every private area.

Then we found it.

Behind a hidden panel in the old study.

A small metal box.

Inside were documents.

Photos.

Medical reports.

And a journal.

Genevieve’s journal.

My hands shook when I opened it.

The first page had a date.

Six months before her death.

I started reading.

Lawson,

I don’t know who I can trust anymore.

Someone close to us has been changing the children’s medications.

I stopped reading.

My heart pounded.

I turned the page.

The next words made my blood run cold.

I believe the person responsible is someone who has access to the mansion every day.

Someone who knows our routines.

Someone we consider family.

I closed my eyes.

Family.

That word hurt.

Because the people closest to you were the ones who could hurt you the most.

A sound came from behind me.

I turned.

Clara was standing there.

“You found it.”

I stared at her.

“How did you know?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

That was enough.

“Clara.”

She looked down.

“Because Genevieve showed me this box before she died.”

My anger exploded.

“You knew?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“You knew my children were being poisoned and said nothing?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I had no proof.”

“You had suspicion.”

“Yes.”

“And you stayed silent?”

She looked at me.

“Because Genevieve begged me.”

The room went quiet.

“She said if you found out too soon, you would attack the wrong person.”

I looked at the journal again.

The wrong person.

My phone buzzed.

A message appeared.

One photo.

Jonah and Blythe sleeping.

Taken minutes ago.

My blood turned cold.

Under the picture was a message.

YOU ARE LOOKING TOO CLOSE.

I looked around the room.

Someone was watching us.

Someone was inside.

Again.

Then another message appeared.

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