CHAPTER 6 THE ENEMY INSIDE THE HALE MANSION

CHAPTER 6
THE ENEMY INSIDE THE HALE MANSION
The message remained on my phone screen for almost a minute.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t breathe.
Not because I was scared.
Because I was thinking.
Fear makes people run.
Anger makes people attack.
But information…
Information makes people dangerous.
The photograph attached to the message bothered me more than the words.
Not because someone threatened me.
Threats were easy.
Anyone could type a sentence.
Anyone could pretend to be powerful from behind a screen.
But the photograph?
That meant someone had been close enough to take it.
Someone had been watching the mansion.
Watching me.
Watching everyone.
I looked through the window.
The Hale property stretched across several acres.
Security cameras.
Private gates.
Long driveways.
No stranger should have been able to get close without being noticed.
Which meant one thing.
Either someone inside helped them…
Or someone inside was them.
I locked my phone.
Then I walked back into the living room.
Everyone looked at me.
My father immediately noticed my expression.
“What happened?”
I didn’t answer right away.
Because I was studying them.
Vivian.
Marcus.
My father.
Three people.
Three different reactions.
Vivian looked curious.
Marcus looked nervous.
My father looked concerned.
Only one of those reactions felt calculated.
Vivian.
She was too calm.
That bothered me.
A normal person who had just learned their stepdaughter was receiving threats would react.
Shock.
Concern.
Fear.
Vivian looked like she was waiting for a performance to begin.
“What did you find?” she asked.
I looked at her.
“Interesting question.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t ask if I was okay.”
Silence.
A small detail.
But important.
People reveal themselves in small details.
Vivian smiled.
“You always did look for hidden meanings.”
“And you always did hide behind polite words.”
Marcus shifted uncomfortably.
“Can we stop playing games?”
I looked at him.
That was the first honest thing he had said tonight.
He looked exhausted.
Not innocent.
But exhausted.
“You’re right.”
I placed my phone on the table.
“Someone sent me a threat.”
My father immediately stood.
“What?”
Marcus frowned.
“Who?”
Vivian remained silent.
That silence was louder than everyone else’s reaction.
My father walked toward me.
“What kind of threat?”
I showed him the message.
His face changed.
Especially when he saw the photograph.
“That was taken here?”
I nodded.
“Tonight.”
My father looked toward the security system.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
He looked at me.
I didn’t accuse anyone.
Not yet.
But everyone understood the implication.
Vivian crossed her arms.
“You think someone in this house did it?”
I looked directly at her.
“I think someone in this house knows more than they’re saying.”
Her expression hardened.
“You’re accusing me?”
“I’m investigating.”
“That’s what you call accusing people when you want to sound professional?”
I almost smiled.
She still thought she could control the conversation.
She still thought emotional manipulation worked on me.
It didn’t.
Not anymore.
I walked toward the security room.
“Where are the camera recordings?”
My father followed.
“Isabella.”
“I need to see them.”
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
The security room was at the back of the mansion.
A place I had never been allowed to enter as a child.
Interesting.
Powerful families always had rooms where the truth lived.
Sometimes it was an office.
Sometimes a safe.
Sometimes a computer.
Sometimes a locked drawer.
The security manager wasn’t there.
That immediately bothered me.
“Where is he?” I asked.
My father frowned.
“Who?”
“The person responsible for security.”
“Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“He went home earlier.”
I looked at the clock.
9:43 p.m.
“Earlier?”
My father nodded.
“He said he wasn’t feeling well.”
I stared at the monitor.
The timing was too perfect.
“Show me today’s footage.”
Marcus entered behind us.
“Why are you looking at cameras?”
“Because someone was close enough to photograph me.”
He looked uncomfortable.
I noticed.
“You know something?”
“No.”
Too fast.
I turned.
“Marcus.”
“What?”
“You answered before I finished asking.”
His face changed.
Small.
But real.
“I don’t know anything.”
I walked closer.
“Then prove it.”
“How?”
“Tell me where you were when the picture was taken.”
His jaw tightened.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“This is insane.”
“No.”
I pointed at the screen.
“This is what happens when people in a house full of secrets start pretending they are surprised by consequences.”
My father looked at Marcus.
“Answer her.”
Marcus looked hurt.
“Dad?”
“Answer.”
Silence.
Finally, he spoke.
“I was upstairs.”
“Doing what?”
He hesitated.
“On the phone.”
“With who?”
He didn’t answer.
That was enough.
I looked at Vivian.
“Your son is terrible at lying.”
She glared.
“Don’t involve him.”
Interesting.
A mother protecting her son.
Or protecting her accomplice.
The footage loaded.
The screen showed the front entrance.
The driveway.
The gates.
The garden.
Nothing.
Then I noticed something.
A gap.
At 8:16 p.m.
The cameras went black for exactly forty-seven seconds.
Forty-seven seconds.
Not an accident.
A system failure would last longer.
A person disabling cameras knows exactly what they are doing.
“Someone turned them off.”
My father stared.
“Can you prove that?”
I nodded.
“Probably.”
I looked at the security panel.
“Where is the access log?”
My father pointed.
I opened it.
The last person who accessed the system appeared.
My eyes stopped.
I read the name again.
Then again.
Because I wanted to be wrong.
I wasn’t.
User: RHale_Admin
My father’s account.
I looked at him.
“Dad.”
His face went pale.
“That’s impossible.”
“Did you access the security system tonight?”
“No.”
“Has anyone else used your account?”
“No.”
He stopped.
Then slowly looked toward Vivian.
Because suddenly both of us understood.
Someone had access to his credentials.
Someone close enough to know his passwords.
Someone close enough to control his home.
Vivian noticed where we were looking.
“You think I did this?”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I checked the login location.
The system showed where the access came from.
The library.
My heart slowed.
The library.
The room where my mother’s letter had been hidden.
The room where we discovered the photograph.
The room where Vivian told us Daniel Cross’s name.
I zoomed in.
There was another piece of information.
A hidden file attached to the login.
A file that had been opened.
The title appeared on the screen.
EVELYN HALE INVESTIGATION ARCHIVE
My blood went cold.
My mother’s files.
Someone had accessed them.
Tonight.
While I was standing in the same house.
I clicked the file history.
One document appeared.
Recently opened.
Created nine years ago.
The title:
THE PERSON RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ACCIDENT
Nobody spoke.
The room felt like it had lost oxygen.
My father grabbed the desk.
“What?”
I looked at him.
“Dad…”
My voice became quieter.
“Someone found Mom’s final investigation.”
Then my phone vibrated.
Another message.
Unknown number.
This time there was no photograph.
Only words.
YOU ARE LOOKING IN THE WRONG ROOM.
I stared at the message.
Then another line appeared.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHY YOUR MOTHER STOPPED TRUSTING HIM.
I slowly lowered the phone.
Because suddenly…
May you like
The question wasn’t just who killed my mother’s truth.
The question was whether my father had been protecting it.