Chapter 4: The Door She Was Afraid Of
Marcus had negotiated with men who threatened to destroy his company, faced investors who tried to intimidate him, and walked into rooms where everyone expected him to fail.
None of those moments had prepared him for his daughter's whispered request.
Please don't let her come into my room tonight.
He stood in the hallway with Poppy wrapped around him, one small hand gripping his collar.
Behind him, Vanessa crossed her arms.
"Marcus, this is getting ridiculous," she said.
"She's upset because you came home and made a scene. Children say things when they're emotional.""
Marcus looked at her.
"Then you won't mind giving her some space.""
Vanessa's mouth tightened.
"Of course I don't mind. I'm the one who's been trying to make this household function.""
"Good. Then you can stay downstairs.""
He turned toward the staircase.
Vanessa followed him.
"You're seriously going to exclude me from my own home?""
Marcus stopped on the first step.
"This is my daughter's home, too. And right now, she doesn't feel safe around you.""
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"Don't use that word. Safe? What exactly do you think I've done to her?""
Poppy buried her face against Marcus's shoulder.
He didn't answer. He simply continued upstairs.
At the top of the staircase, Grace waited with her hands clasped in front of her uniform.
"Would you like me to prepare something for Poppy, sir?""
"Yes, please. Something she likes. And Grace?""
"Yes, sir?""
"Nobody goes into her room without my permission.""
Grace nodded.
"Understood.""
Vanessa's voice rose from below.
"This is unbelievable! Grace, don't just stand there pretending you're some kind of hero!""
Grace looked down the staircase.
"I never said I was a hero, ma'am.""
"Then stop acting like one!""
Marcus turned his head.
"Vanessa, enough.""
For once, she fell silent.
He carried Poppy into her bedroom and closed the door behind them.
The room was bright, decorated in soft lavender and white. Stuffed animals sat along the headboard, and a little wooden table stood beside the window. A framed photograph of Marcus and Poppy at the beach rested on the dresser.
Marcus remembered that day clearly.
Poppy had been three. She had run straight into the waves, squealing until the cold water touched her knees. When he carried her back to shore, she had pressed a wet hand against his cheek and announced that he was her favorite person in the whole world.
Now she sat on her bed as though she were afraid even the mattress might disappear beneath her.
Marcus knelt in front of her.
"Baby, can I take off your shoes?""
Poppy nodded.
He removed them gently and placed them beside the bed.
"Would you like some water?""
Another nod.
He brought her a glass from the bedside table, holding it while she took two small sips.
Then he sat beside her.
"Can I ask you something?""
Poppy looked at the photograph on the dresser.
"Am I in trouble?""
Marcus felt his chest tighten.
"No. Absolutely not.""
"But Vanessa said I was bad.""
"You're allowed to make mistakes. You're allowed to spill juice. You're allowed to cry when you're upset.""
Poppy twisted the hem of her dress.
"She says crying makes people tired of me.""
Marcus reached for her hand.
"Look at me, sweetheart.""
She slowly raised her eyes.
"Your feelings are not a problem. And you will never have to earn the right to be treated kindly in this house.""
Poppy stared at him for several seconds.
Then she asked, "Are you going away again?""
Marcus swallowed.
"I have to work sometimes. But I will never stop loving you when I leave the house.""
"Even when Vanessa says I make you sad?""
His expression changed.
"When did she say that?""
Poppy hesitated.
"Last week.""
Marcus kept his voice calm.
"What happened last week?""
Poppy glanced toward the bedroom door.
"She said if I told you things, you'd think I was a liar.""
Marcus felt anger rise, but he pushed it down before it could reach his face.
"Did she tell you that today, too?""
Poppy nodded.
"She said you'd believe her because she's grown-up.""
For a moment, Marcus couldn't find the words.
He had spent months believing that Poppy and Vanessa were adjusting to each other. He had mistaken the child's silence for acceptance and Vanessa's confidence for competence.
He had been so busy building a future for his daughter that he had failed to notice what was happening in her present.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Poppy frowned.
"Why are you sorry, Daddy?""
"Because I should have listened more carefully when you needed me.""
She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his waist.
Marcus held her until her breathing began to settle.
A soft knock came at the door.
Grace stood outside with a small tray containing a bowl of warm soup, buttered toast, and sliced strawberries.
"May I come in, sir?""
Marcus looked at Poppy.
She nodded.
"Yes," he called.
Grace entered and placed the tray on the bedside table.
"I made her favorite soup.""
Poppy looked at the food.
"Can I eat here?""
Grace's face softened.
"Of course, sweetheart. You can eat wherever you're comfortable.""
Poppy picked up the spoon, then paused.
"Do I have to finish everything?""
"No," Marcus answered.
"You can eat until you're full.""
She took a cautious spoonful.
Grace turned toward Marcus.
"Sir, may I speak with you outside for a moment?""
Marcus kissed Poppy's forehead.
"I'll be right outside, baby.""
"Don't close the door all the way," Poppy whispered.
He left it slightly open.
In the hallway, Grace clasped her hands tightly.
"Sir, there's something else you should know.""
Marcus studied her face.
"Tell me.""
Grace glanced toward the staircase.
"Mrs. Vanessa has been asking questions about the household cameras.""
His expression sharpened.
"What kind of questions?""
"She wanted to know which cameras record sound, how long the recordings are kept, and whether the footage can be deleted.""
Marcus went very still.
"Why didn't you tell me before?""
"I thought she was concerned about privacy. Then, a few weeks ago, I saw her speaking to the security contractor. She asked whether the cameras could be switched off temporarily without anyone receiving an alert.""
"Did he agree?""
"I don't know. But yesterday, the hallway camera outside Poppy's bedroom was facing the ceiling.""
Marcus looked toward his daughter's open door.
"Did you see anyone move it?""
Grace shook her head.
"No, sir. But I put it back this morning.""
A cold realization settled over him.
The cameras had been installed to protect the family, yet someone had apparently been trying to determine how to avoid them.
Marcus took out his phone.
"Call the security supervisor. I want the original recordings preserved immediately. No one deletes anything.""
Grace nodded.
"Yes, sir.""
"And Grace?""
She looked up.
"Thank you for calling me.""
Her eyes filled.
"I was afraid she'd fire me.""
Marcus's voice softened.
"You did the right thing.""
He turned toward Poppy's room, where his daughter was eating slowly, one hand resting beside the tray as if she still wasn't certain the food belonged to her.
Then his phone vibrated.
The message came from the security supervisor.
Mr. Reed, we have a problem. Several camera recordings from the upstairs hallway are missing. However, the system may have retained an access log.
Marcus read the message twice.
Then another notification appeared.
There is a record of a manual system override. It was performed using your household administrator credentials.
Marcus stared at the screen.
Those credentials were supposed to be known only to him and the security supervisor.
But the log displayed something else.
May you like
The override had been initiated from inside the mansion.
And the timestamp was from the previous evening.
