Chapter 3 - The Maid Who Wasn't AfraidGrace had no idea someone was watching her.
She was in the laundry room, folding towels.
But unlike the other evenings, her hands were shaking.
She had seen Evelyn’s expression.
She had heard Malcolm arguing with someone upstairs.
And she remembered the beggar’s eyes.
There was something strange about him.
Not dangerous.
Not exactly.
But familiar.
Grace had seen those eyes before.
She just couldn't remember where.
She returned to the kitchen.
The bowl the beggar had used was gone.
So was the blanket.
She frowned.
“Where did he go?”
“Probably chased away.”
Grace turned.
Victor stood in the doorway.
She narrowed her eyes.
“By whom?”
Victor smiled.
“You ask too many questions.”
“And you give too few answers.”
His expression hardened.
“You should be careful.”
“About what?”
“About thinking this house is your family.”
Grace stared at him.
“It isn't.”
“Good.”
He walked away.
Grace watched him disappear.
Then she noticed something beneath the table.
A small black button.
She picked it up.
It looked ordinary.
But when she turned it over, she found a tiny red light.
A camera.
Someone had been recording the kitchen.
Grace dropped it.
At that exact moment, Adrian was watching her from the dark room of the apartment where he had been hiding.
He expected her to panic.
Instead, she picked up the device again.
She examined it.
Then she looked directly toward the ceiling.
“Whoever you are,” she whispered, “I hope you're hearing this.”
Adrian froze.
Grace continued.
“I don't know why someone put a camera here.”
She swallowed.
“But if you're trying to find out who can be trusted…”
She held the camera in front of her.
“You chose the wrong place to hide it.”
Adrian almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Grace whispered:
“Because I already know someone in this house is stealing from Mr. Whitmore.”
Adrian sat upright.
“How?”
Grace put down the camera.
“The pantry inventory.”
She explained to no one.
Every week, expensive food disappeared.
Not enough for one employee.
Too much for a mistake.
Then there were deliveries.
Medicine.
Cash.
Documents.
All signed under false names.
She had noticed them because she handled household records.
But she had been afraid to report them.
Adrian immediately checked the records.
She was right.
The numbers had been manipulated.
Thousands of dollars.
Perhaps millions.
The next morning, Adrian returned to Whitmore House in disguise.
This time, he entered through the servant's entrance.
Grace found him standing there.
She stared.
“You again.”
Adrian coughed.
“I was told there might be work.”
Grace sighed.
“You're the beggar from yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I know.”
She studied him.
Then she asked:
“What is your name?”
He hesitated.
“Henry.”
Grace smiled.
“That isn't your name.”
Adrian stiffened.
“How do you know?”
“Because yesterday when Mrs. Whitmore walked into the kitchen, you looked at her like she had broken your heart.”
Adrian looked away.
Grace folded her arms.
“And no homeless man I've ever met watches security cameras more than he watches food.”
Adrian almost laughed.
“Then why didn't you report me?”
Grace shrugged.
“Because you needed help.”
She turned toward the pantry.
“And because I think you're hiding from someone.”
Adrian watched her.
“You're not afraid of me?”
Grace smiled.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because anyone who genuinely wants to hurt me usually doesn't ask for soup first.”
Adrian smiled.
Then Grace opened the pantry door.
And froze.
There was a man lying unconscious on the floor.
Blood pooled beneath his head.
Grace screamed.
Adrian rushed inside.
The man's hand was clenched around a torn piece of paper.
Adrian pulled it free.
May you like
Three words were written across it.
GET OUT, GRACE.
