Chapter 2 - The Missing Seventeen Minutes
Dr. Mercer arrived thirty-six minutes later.
By then Clara had convinced herself she was fired.
People like Leo Castillion did not investigate servants because they cared.
They investigated because something had happened inside their property without permission.
Clara understood the difference.
She sat on a leather sofa in Leo’s private study while Dr. Mercer carefully removed the athletic tape.
When he pulled away the first wooden spoon, Clara winced.
“Who did this splint?”
“I did.”
He stared at her.
“With kitchen utensils?”
“They were available.”
Dr. Mercer did not laugh.
“That wrist needs imaging.”
“I can’t afford—”
“It’s already arranged.”
“By Mr. Castillion?”
“Yes.”
Clara looked toward the rain-darkened windows.
Of course.
Everything here was arranged by Leo Castillion.
Cars.
Doctors.
Security.
Jobs.
Silence.
That was what scared her.
Forty minutes later, the diagnosis arrived.
A fracture.
Not severe enough for surgery, assuming she stopped using the hand immediately.
A proper brace was fitted.
Pain medication was left on the desk.
And Clara was ordered not to lift anything for several weeks.
She almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because several weeks without work would destroy her.
Dr. Mercer apparently read her expression.
“Mr. Castillion said your wages continue.”
She looked at him.
“For how long?”
“Until you’re cleared.”
“Why?”
The doctor packed his bag.
“You’ll have to ask him.”
Downstairs, Leo was asking questions of his own.
His security chief, Daniel Rusk, stood near the dining room windows with a tablet.
Dinner had ended.
The guests had left.
All except Vincent.
Leo had asked him to stay.
Vincent sat at the long table finishing a bourbon.
Too casually.
“What did you find?” Leo asked.
Daniel hesitated.
“That’s the problem.”
Leo looked at him.
“There’s nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Camera nine covers the east service hallway.”
Clara had claimed she fell there.
“The footage jumps from 6:41 to 6:58.”
Seventeen minutes.
Leo turned toward Vincent.
Vincent took another drink.
“Technical problem?”
Daniel shook his head.
“No outage anywhere else.”
Leo asked, “Who has access?”
Daniel did not answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Leo’s voice lowered.
“Who?”
“Four people.”
“Names.”
“You. Me. Vincent. And Marta because she manages household operations.”
Vincent laughed.
“Are we seriously turning a maid’s accident into a criminal investigation?”
Leo looked toward him.
“No.”
Vincent relaxed slightly.
Leo continued.
“I’m turning seventeen missing minutes from my security system into an investigation.”
That relaxation disappeared.
Vincent put down the glass.
“I didn’t touch your cameras.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
Another pause.
Leo knew guilty men often rushed to defend themselves before anyone accused them.
Vincent stood.
“We’ve known each other fifteen years.”
“Sixteen.”
“That’s my point.”
“No. Your point was emotional. I corrected the number.”
Vincent stared at him.
Leo walked slowly toward the table.
“Did you see Clara this morning?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“I said no.”
Leo nodded.
“Then you won’t mind if Daniel checks your access records.”
Vincent smiled faintly.
“You don’t trust me?”
Leo’s answer was immediate.
“I trust records.”
Upstairs, Clara heard footsteps outside the study.
She expected Daniel.
Instead, Marta Silva entered.
The sixty-year-old housekeeper had worked for the Castillion family longer than Clara had been alive.
She closed the door quietly.
Then looked at Clara’s brace.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Clara looked away.
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
Marta sat beside her.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Marta whispered, “Did Vincent do this?”
Clara’s head snapped toward her.
Marta’s face answered the question Clara had not asked.
“You know?”
“I know he’s been making staff afraid.”
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
“Why didn’t you tell Leo?”
Marta gave a sad smile.
“You think powerful men know everything happening beneath them.”
“They usually don’t.”
Clara looked toward the door.
“Vincent said nobody would believe me.”
Marta’s eyes hardened.
“What happened?”
Clara hesitated.
Then the words came.
Slowly.
This morning she had arrived early because Vincent had ordered her to reorganize a storage room before her official shift.
When she finished, he accused her of losing an envelope containing cash.
Clara denied touching it.
Vincent blocked the hallway.
He grabbed her wrist when she tried to walk around him.
She pulled away.
Her hand struck the edge of a service cart.
There was a crack.
Vincent released her.
Then he smiled.
Not because the injury was funny.
Because he knew she was terrified.
“Tell Leo,” he had said. “See whose story costs more.”
Marta closed her eyes.
“Oh, Clara.”
“He said he’d make sure no hotel in the city hired me.”
“He can’t do that.”
“He already got Ellie fired.”
Marta froze.
Clara saw it.
“You know about Ellie?”
Ellie Monroe had been a kitchen assistant.
Twenty-two.
Funny.
Talkative.
Gone without explanation six weeks earlier.
Staff had been told she stole jewelry.
Clara had never believed it.
Marta stood.
“We need to tell Leo.”
“No.”
“Clara—”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand better than you think.”
Marta walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“There have been others.”
Clara’s blood ran cold.
“What others?”
Marta looked back.
“Three women left this house in eight months.”
Clara stared at her.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“But I’m starting to think Vincent does.”
Downstairs, Daniel returned with another discovery.
“Vincent’s access card opened the security office at 7:03 this morning.”
Vincent’s expression barely moved.
Leo noticed anyway.
“I wanted coffee.”
“The security office doesn’t have coffee,” Daniel said.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
Leo sat down.
“Seventeen minutes disappeared.”
“Your card entered the room five minutes later.”
“And Clara somehow fractured her wrist during that same period.”
Vincent exhaled.
“This is ridiculous.”
Leo remained calm.
“Maybe.”
Then Daniel’s phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His face changed.
“What?”
Daniel looked toward Leo.
“We found a backup.”
Vincent went completely still.
Leo noticed that too.
“A backup of what?”
“Camera nine.”
Vincent stood quickly.
“I’m leaving.”
Leo looked at him.
“No.”
One word.
Nothing louder.
Yet Vincent stopped.
Daniel placed the tablet on the table.
“The main system was erased.”
“But the maintenance server keeps low-resolution copies for twenty-four hours.”
Leo looked at the screen.
The video loaded.
Timestamp:
6:46 A.M.
Clara entered the hallway.
6:47.
Vincent followed her.
6:49.
He reached for her arm.
6:50.
Clara stumbled against the cart.
Leo’s face became unreadable.
Then something else appeared on the video.
At 6:51, another man stepped into frame.
He watched everything.
He did nothing.
Leo leaned toward the screen.
He recognized him immediately.
May you like
And that realization was worse than seeing Vincent.
Because the second man was family.
