Chapter 2 - The Photograph Taken While His Son Was Sleeping
Vincent Castellano had spent twenty years making dangerous men afraid of him.
But at 5:12 that morning, standing outside his son's bedroom, he discovered a kind of fear he had never known.
The fear of arriving one second too late.
“Ethan,” he whispered into his phone, “lock down the house. Nobody leaves. Nobody comes in.”
“Already moving, Boss.”
“And don't tell Madeline.”
Vincent pushed Oliver's bedroom door open.
The boy lay beneath a blue quilt decorated with little sailboats. His stuffed bear rested against his cheek.
Grace sat in the armchair beside the bed.
She stood immediately.
“Mr. Castellano—”
“Has anyone entered this room?”
“Not since I brought him upstairs.”
Vincent showed her the photograph.
Grace covered her mouth.
“Oh, dear God.”
He examined the bedroom.
The curtains were closed. The window was locked. Nothing appeared disturbed.
Then he noticed the stuffed bear.
Its left ear was folded backward.
Oliver had slept with that bear since Caroline died. He always tucked both ears beneath its chin because he believed it helped the bear sleep.
In the photograph, the left ear stood upright.
Someone had touched it.
Vincent approached the bed, careful not to wake his son.
He lifted the bear.
Something hard pressed against his thumb.
Inside the stitching near the bear's neck was a tiny black device.
A camera.
Vincent's stomach turned.
He carried it into the hallway.
Ethan arrived with two security officers.
“Find out who installed this,” Vincent said.
Ethan examined the device.
“It isn't connected to the mansion's security system.”
“Then whose system?”
“I'll find out.”
Vincent stopped him.
“Before you do anything else, tell me how someone got into my son's bedroom.”
Ethan looked toward the staircase.
“Boss, there's something you need to understand.”
“Then explain.”
“The surveillance equipment we installed after Caroline died covers the hallways, entrances, and grounds. But several rooms still use the older network.”
“Oliver's room?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Who has access?”
“You. Me. And anyone who still has the old administrator credentials.”
Vincent studied his oldest friend.
Ethan had worked for the Castellano family for seventeen years. He'd protected Caroline during her pregnancy and carried Oliver out of the hospital when the boy was born.
Vincent trusted him more than anyone.
“Find those credentials,” he said.
Ethan nodded.
But Vincent noticed something unusual.
His security chief looked frightened.
Not surprised.
Frightened.
Oliver woke shortly after six.
Vincent was sitting beside him.
“Daddy?”
“I'm here, buddy.”
The little boy looked toward the empty armchair.
“Where's Miss Grace?”
“Getting some breakfast.”
Oliver relaxed slightly.
Vincent held up Caroline's broken locket.
“Do you recognize this?”
Oliver's eyes widened.
“That's Mommy's necklace.”
“Where did you see it?”
“In the blue box.”
“What blue box?”
“The one Madeline took from Mommy's room.”
Vincent waited.
Oliver rubbed his eyes.
“She said Mommy didn't want me touching her stuff. But I saw my name on an envelope.”
“Did you open it?”
“No. Madeline grabbed it.”
“What happened next?”
Oliver pulled his blanket over his knees.
“She got really mad.”
“At you?”
He nodded.
“She asked if I told anybody about the picture.”
Vincent leaned closer.
“What picture?”
Oliver looked confused.
“The one with Mommy and the lady.”
Vincent felt his chest tighten.
“Which lady?”
“I don't know her name.”
“Was it Madeline?”
“No.”
That answer surprised him.
Oliver studied his father's expression.
“Daddy, am I in trouble?”
Vincent shook his head.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Madeline said you'd be mad because I went where I wasn't supposed to.”
Vincent reached for his son's hand.
“Listen carefully. You are never in trouble for telling me the truth.”
Oliver stared at him.
“Even if grown-ups say not to?”
“Especially then.”
For a moment, the boy seemed ready to say something more.
Instead, he whispered, “Can Miss Grace stay?”
“She can stay as long as she wants.”
Oliver hugged him.
Vincent closed his eyes.
He'd spent three years believing expensive schools, security guards, and a beautiful home could protect his son.
Meanwhile, Oliver had been afraid inside his own bedroom.
Downstairs, Madeline appeared at breakfast wearing a cream silk robe.
She smiled when she saw Vincent.
“You're up early.”
“So are you.”
“I couldn't sleep.”
She poured herself coffee.
“Is Oliver behaving better?”
Vincent watched her hands.
They were steady.
“He's resting.”
“Good. Yesterday was difficult for everyone.”
Vincent placed Caroline's locket on the table.
Madeline's smile disappeared.
“Where did you get that?”
“Oliver found it.”
“He shouldn't have been going through Caroline's things.”
“Neither should you.”
Madeline set down her cup.
“Vincent, I was trying to put away some painful reminders. That room has become a shrine.”
“It's my wife's room.”
“Your late wife's room.”
The correction landed like a slap.
Madeline sighed.
“I know you loved Caroline. But Oliver cannot spend his childhood living with a ghost.”
“Then why punish him for three hours?”
She blinked.
“What?”
“I watched the footage.”
Her expression changed.
“Vincent, you don't understand. Grace—”
“Don't blame Grace.”
Madeline swallowed.
“You're taking a child's version of events over mine?”
“I'm taking what I saw.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Madeline's eyes filled with tears.
“I have spent two years trying to become part of this family. Do you know what it's like loving a man who keeps comparing you to a dead woman?”
Vincent said nothing.
“I wasn't trying to hurt Oliver. I lost control. I was angry, and I handled it terribly.”
It was the first honest admission he'd heard from her.
But it wasn't enough.
“Pack a bag,” he said.
Madeline stared.
“You're sending me away?”
“Until I understand what's happening in this house.”
“You think Caroline was perfect?”
Vincent stiffened.
“What does that mean?”
Madeline looked toward the hallway.
Then she lowered her voice.
“Ask Ethan what happened the night of the fire.”
By eight o'clock, Ethan had traced the hidden camera.
Vincent found him in the security office, staring at an old computer terminal.
“Tell me.”
“The camera was registered three years ago.”
“To whom?”
Ethan turned the monitor.
The device's original installation record listed a single authorized user.
CAROLINE CASTELLANO.
Vincent frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“There's more.”
Ethan opened a second file.
The camera had been activated remotely at 4:58 that morning.
The account had also accessed archived footage from the west wing.
“Who logged in?” Vincent asked.
Ethan didn't answer immediately.
Then he showed him the access history.
The account had been active repeatedly during the past three years.
Including the night Caroline died.
Vincent stared at the screen.
“Caroline was dead by then.”
“I know.”
Ethan scrolled lower.
“There was another login last night. Whoever used it downloaded a recording.”
“Of what?”
Ethan opened the file.
Grainy security footage filled the monitor.
Caroline appeared in the west-wing hallway, wearing her pale blue winter coat.
She was alive.
She was crying.
And standing directly in front of her was Ethan.
The recording was dated two nights before her death.
Vincent slowly turned toward his security chief.
Ethan lowered his eyes.
“Boss, before you watch the rest, there's something Caroline made me promise I'd never tell you.”
On the screen, Caroline reached into her coat and handed Ethan a small silver key.
May you like
Then her recorded voice spoke clearly.
“If Vincent finds out what we did in the basement, he'll never forgive either of us.”
Related Stories
