Chapter 2 - THE THINGS MY DAUGHTERS WERE AFRAID TO SAY
That evening, I did something I hadn't done since Madeline died.
I ate dinner with my daughters.
No phone.
No laptop.
No assistant.
No security briefing.
Just three plates of food around a kitchen island.
Avery told me about a drawing she had made.
Sophie told me that her teacher had a new yellow dress.
I listened.
Actually listened.
It felt uncomfortable.
I wasn't used to conversations that didn't involve money, leverage, schedules, or consequences.
Then Avery asked a question.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Are you mad at Clara?"
My fork stopped.
"Why?"
"Because you were talking quietly."
Sophie looked at me.
"You were doing your serious face."
I almost smiled.
"What serious face?"
Both girls immediately imitated me.
Their expressions became absurdly stern.
For the first time in months, I laughed.
Then Avery asked again.
"Are you going to fire her?"
I looked toward Clara.
She was standing several feet away, pretending not to listen.
"No."
Avery smiled.
"Good."
Sophie leaned closer.
"Because we need her."
The words were innocent.
But something about them bothered me.
"Why?"
The girls exchanged a glance.
Avery looked down.
Sophie became interested in her peas.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Silence.
I lowered my voice.
"You can tell Daddy anything."
Sophie whispered.
"Can we?"
"Of course."
Avery shook her head.
"You'll get mad."
"I promise I won't."
She looked at me.
"You promise?"
"Yes."
Avery's fingers tightened around her fork.
"Sometimes Mommy's room isn't empty."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
Sophie immediately looked frightened.
Avery continued.
"Sometimes someone goes inside."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"When?"
"At night."
I glanced toward Clara.
She had gone completely still.
"What do you hear?"
Avery swallowed.
"Walking."
"Anything else?"
"Sometimes the door closes."
Sophie whispered.
"Sometimes we hear Daddy's voice."
My skin went cold.
"My voice?"
Sophie nodded.
"From Mommy's room."
I stood.
Clara immediately stepped forward.
"Mr. Whitaker—"
"Stay here."
I walked upstairs.
Madeline's room had remained almost untouched since her death.
I had told myself it was because I couldn't bear changing it.
The truth was uglier.
I had used the room as a mausoleum.
I opened the door.
Nothing.
Everything was exactly as I remembered.
Madeline's books.
Her perfume bottle.
The framed wedding photograph.
The blue curtains.
I walked toward the closet.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the security camera.
There was one installed in the hallway.
Another in the adjoining corridor.
None inside the bedroom.
I checked the logs.
Nothing unusual.
I returned downstairs.
"Girls, when was the last time you heard my voice?"
Sophie answered immediately.
"Tuesday."
I looked at Clara.
"Where were you?"
"Cleaning downstairs."
"Could you hear it?"
"No."
"What did it say?"
Sophie frowned.
"It said, 'Mommy's gone.'"
I froze.
I had never said that phrase to them.
Not like that.
Never.
Avery added, "Then somebody said, 'She doesn't need to know.'"
I looked at Clara.
Her face had lost all color.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
I pulled out my phone.
"Daniel."
My head of security answered.
"Sir?"
"Check every camera around the house for the past thirty days."
"All of them?"
"All."
"And?"
"Nobody comes in or out without my knowledge."
"Yes, sir."
I hung up.
Clara approached me.
"There's something else."
"What?"
She looked toward the children.
"Can we talk privately?"
We walked into the study.
Clara closed the door.
"I've noticed someone has been moving things in Madeline's room."
"How?"
"Her jewelry box."
My pulse increased.
"What about it?"
"Every morning, it was slightly different."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought you were doing it."
I walked to my desk.
"Anything else?"
"Her photograph."
"What photograph?"
"The one from the wedding."
"What about it?"
"It was turned face down three times."
I stared at her.
"Did you touch it?"
"No."
"Who did?"
"I don't know."
Then my security chief called.
I answered.
"Sir."
"What did you find?"
"We have a problem."
"What kind?"
"Someone has been accessing the old camera system."
I frowned.
"That system was disconnected after Madeline died."
"I know."
"Then how?"
"I don't know yet."
"Can you trace it?"
"Someone is using a hidden network bridge."
"Inside the house?"
"Yes."
My grip tightened around the phone.
"Find it."
"We're working on it."
I hung up.
Clara watched me.
"What does this mean?"
"It means someone has been inside my house without entering through the front door."
Her eyes widened.
"And the girls?"
I thought of Avery's words.
Someone goes inside Mommy's room.
I suddenly understood why Patricia had been so determined to remove Clara.
Clara was the only adult in the house who paid attention to small things.
Someone didn't need to control my daughters.
They needed to make sure nobody else noticed.
That night, I increased security.
I placed two guards outside the children's rooms.
I personally checked every window.
Every lock.
Every corridor.
At 1:12 a.m., my phone rang.
A security alert.
Movement in Madeline's room.
I ran upstairs.
The door was open.
The room was empty.
Then I saw the wedding photograph.
It was lying face down.
Again.
I picked it up.
Behind it, taped to the back, was a folded piece of paper.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Only seven words were written.
You should have listened to your wife.
I stared at the handwriting.
I knew it.
I had seen it before.
On checks.
On Christmas cards.
On notes left beside my coffee.
May you like
My blood turned cold.
The handwriting belonged to Patricia.
