Chapter 4 - The Broken Melody
Dinner arrived on silver trays: roasted chicken, steamed vegetables, and broth. Lily ate mechanically, chewing each bite twenty times as if following a rehearsed drill. Whenever a floorboard creaked in the hallway, her fork would freeze an inch above her plate.
By seven-thirty, I had drawn a warm bath for her, laid out her pajamas, and tucked her into the four-poster bed beneath a heavy goose-down duvet. Barnaby the rabbit was tucked firmly under her chin.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and began to hum softly—an old lullaby my father used to hum against my forehead when I was little, letting the low vibration soothe me to sleep.
Lily’s eyes fluttered shut. For the first time all day, the tight lines around her mouth relaxed, and within twenty minutes, her breathing deepened into true, restorative sleep.
I slipped quietly out of the nursery, leaving the adjoining door cracked, and walked down the grand staircase toward the ground floor. The mansion was tomb-like. The towering grandfather clock in the corner of the foyer ticked with heavy, hollow thuds.
Light spilled from beneath the double oak doors of the library at the end of the east wing.
I approached cautiously and knocked lightly on the wood.
"Come in," Marcus's voice called out, heavy and muffled.
I pushed the door open. The library was magnificent, lined with two stories of leather-bound books, but Marcus sat slumped behind a massive mahogany desk, illuminated only by a single green-shaded banker’s lamp. In front of him sat a half-empty glass of amber whiskey and a framed silver photograph of a laughing woman with honey-brown hair holding an infant Lily.
Marcus looked up, blinking against the shadows. "Miss Bellamy. Is Lily all right? Did she... did she sign anything else?"
"She is asleep, Mr. Ellery," I said, stepping into the warm amber circle of light. "She drew with me today. She ate her full dinner."
Marcus let out a long, ragged exhale that sounded almost like a sob. He leaned back in his leather chair, staring at the ceiling. "Do you know what it’s like to live in a house where your own child looks at you like you're a stranger? Every morning I wake up terrified that she will forget the sound of my voice. Or worse... that she hates me for failing to save her mother."
"She doesn't hate you," I said firmly, my voice gentle but uncompromising. "She is carrying an unbearable burden for a six-year-old child."
Marcus’s eyes shifted to the framed photograph on his desk. "Clara died on the balcony during the blizzard two years ago. The railing was iced over. The police said she slipped, lost her footing. Lily was in the adjoining bedroom. She heard her mother fall." His hands clenched into tight fists. "Since that night, the light in this house died. Vivian moved in to help manage the estate, but my sister... she rules through fear and order. She thinks if we control every variable, nothing bad can ever happen again."
"Mr. Ellery," I said carefully, stepping closer to the desk. "Who installed the security cameras in the family living quarters?"
Marcus frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "The exterior system was updated last year by Vanguard Security. But there are no cameras in the private living quarters. Clara hated surveillance. She made me promise never to put lenses in the bedrooms or nursery."
A heavy, sickening cold dropped straight into my stomach.
"Mr. Ellery," I whispered, my heart thumping wildly against my ribs. "There is a high-grade pinhole camera hidden in the molding above the foyer staircase. And there is another one mounted directly above the bookshelf in Lily’s nursery."
Marcus went completely still. His face drained of color until he looked like carved marble. "What did you say?"
"They have active power indicators," I pressed, keeping my voice low. "Lily knows they are there. She called it 'the red eye.' She believes someone is watching her, and she told me she cannot speak because bad things happen if she makes noise."
Marcus shot out of his chair with such violent force that his glass toppled, spilling whiskey across the leather desk blotter. "That's impossible. I personally approved the security schematic with the head of Vanguard. No cameras were authorized inside this house except for the main entry vault and the ground-floor gallery."
He rounded the desk, his jaw set in a terrifying mask of fury and dread. "Show me."
We moved swiftly through the shadowed hallways, taking the service stairs back toward the third floor to avoid making noise. When we reached the third-floor corridor, Marcus stopped beneath the small sconce, his chest heaving.
"The master security terminal is in my private study on the second floor," he whispered, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. "If someone hardwired feeds into Lily’s room, it has to run through the secondary server hub."
"Lily signed something else to me, Mr. Ellery," I said, gripping his sleeve to stop him before he opened the nursery door. "She mentioned a woman who takes her rabbit if she makes noise, telling her bad men will come like the night her mother fell."
Marcus stared at me in horror. "Vivian would never—"
"I don't think it's Vivian," I said honestly. "Your sister is sharp, and she’s terrified, but when she looked at Lily's drawing today, she grieved Clara with her whole heart. But whoever is on the other end of those lenses has convinced Lily that speaking out loud is a death sentence."
Before Marcus could answer, a soft rustling sound echoed from the dark nursery.
May you like
Marcus and I froze.
Through the crack in the door, the moonlight illuminated the room. Lily was not in bed. She was standing in the center of the braided rug, holding a small pair of children’s safety scissors, slowly cutting into the frayed underbelly of her stuffed rabbit.
