Chapter 2 - The Missing MinutesBy midnight, nobody in the mansion was asleep.
Stallone sat in the security control room while six monitors showed every corridor of the house.
Gideon stood behind him.
Mara sat across the room with her hands clasped.
No one spoke.
Stallone replayed the recovered recording.
Again.
And again.
The man’s voice came through the speakers.
“Keep him away from the west wing.”
“Make sure he stops asking.”
The words seemed to get colder each time.
“Gideon.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Why wasn’t that camera registered?”
“I have no idea.”
“Then find out.”
Gideon swallowed.
“I will.”
Stallone looked at Mara.
“You’re going to tell me everything.”
“I already told you.”
“No.”
His voice was calm.
That frightened her more than shouting would have.
“You told me the story that protected you.”
Mara lowered her eyes.
“I didn’t hurt Noah.”
Stallone’s expression changed.
“I watched you.”
Her face tightened.
“I never wanted to.”
“Who forced you?”
Silence.
Stallone stood.
“Who?”
Mara looked toward the door.
For a second, Stallone thought she was going to answer.
Then she whispered:
“You should ask your mother.”
The room went still.
Gideon looked at Mara sharply.
Stallone stared at her.
“Why my mother?”
“I can’t.”
“You just did.”
Mara began to cry.
“I thought it would stop.”
“What would stop?”
“The instructions.”
“What instructions?”
Mara looked directly at him.
“She said Noah had to become afraid of you.”
Stallone felt the words hit like a physical blow.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You do know.”
“I swear I don't.”
Stallone walked closer.
“Mara, my son was standing under freezing water.”
“I know.”
“You threatened him.”
“I know.”
“You told him I was never coming back.”
Mara covered her face.
“I was told to.”
“By whom?”
She whispered a name.
But before Stallone could hear it, the lights went out.
Every monitor died.
The room went black.
Someone screamed.
Stallone reached for his phone.
Emergency power should have activated instantly.
It didn’t.
Then he heard footsteps outside.
Running.
Fast.
He opened the door.
The corridor lights flickered on.
A security officer lay unconscious beside the control room.
The server cabinet was open.
Two hard drives were missing.
Gideon rushed toward them.
“Sir, whoever did this knew exactly what they wanted.”
Stallone looked at the dark hallway.
“Lock the house down.”
“Already doing it.”
Doors slammed shut throughout the mansion.
Windows sealed.
Guards took positions.
No one was leaving.
Stallone looked at Mara.
“You said my mother.”
Mara was trembling.
“I shouldn’t have.”
“What name were you about to say?”
She shook her head.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because she promised she would destroy my family.”
Stallone stared.
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
“Your family?”
Mara nodded.
“She knows where my sister lives. She knows where my children go to school.”
Stallone realized something.
Mara had not been acting out of loyalty.
She had been acting under threat.
That did not excuse what she had done.
But it changed the shape of the crime.
A few minutes later, investigators restored partial access to the backup system.
They discovered something disturbing.
The erased footage was not random.
Every missing segment involved Noah.
Not once.
Not twice.
Dozens of times.
Someone had tracked his movements.
Every day.
Every meal.
Every trip into the garden.
Every time he spoke about his dead mother.
Every time he asked about Stallone.
Then one investigator found a hidden data partition.
“Sir.”
The screen displayed dozens of encrypted files.
All named with dates.
The first was eight months earlier.
Stallone frowned.
“That was before Mara became responsible for Noah.”
“Yes.”
“Open it.”
The file contained audio.
A woman’s voice.
Soft.
Old.
Familiar.
“You're certain he remembers?”
A man answered.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough to become dangerous.”
Stallone leaned toward the speaker.
“Who is that?”
The investigator enhanced the recording.
The woman spoke again.
“Then we continue.”
Stallone froze.
He knew that voice.
His mother.
Helen.
The next file contained a conversation with a different date.
“You can't keep him sedated every night.”
“We're not sedating him.”
“Then why does he stop remembering?”
“Because he is five.”
Helen's voice became colder.
“Children forget.”
The recording ended.
Stallone stared at the screen.
Mara had been involved.
Gideon might be involved.
His mother was clearly involved.
But one sentence kept haunting him.
“He remembers.”
Remembers what?
Stallone returned to Noah's bedroom.
His son was awake.
He sat cross-legged on the bed, holding a stuffed fox.
Stallone sat beside him.
“Noah.”
The boy looked up.
“Can I ask you something?”
A tiny nod.
“Why were you scared of the kitchen?”
Noah's fingers tightened around the toy.
“I don't know.”
“Try.”
The boy looked toward the doorway.
Then he whispered:
“There was a man.”
Stallone's heart stopped.
“What man?”
“He had a red tie.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Noah shook his head.
“He didn't touch me.”
“Then what did he do?”
Noah stared at the floor.
“He told Aunt Mara what to do.”
Stallone felt a chill crawl up his spine.
“The man with the red tie.”
Noah nodded.
“What did he say?”
The boy swallowed.
“He said you would leave me.”
“Did he say his name?”
Noah's eyes filled with fear.
Then, very softly, he answered:
“Uncle Julian.”
Stallone stood.
His younger brother Julian had been out of the country for months.
Or so everyone had told him.
His phone rang.
It was the airport.
“Mr. Stallone, we have a problem.”
“What?”
“Your brother's passport shows he never left the country.”
Stallone looked at Noah.
The boy was still clutching the fox.
His blood ran cold.
May you like
Julian had been in the mansion.
The whole time.
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