Chapter 3 - Belle Drew a Picture of the Man Who Wanted Her Dead—And Harlan Realized the Person We Trusted Most Had Been Feeding the Enemy InformationBelle's condition stabilized.
But the house never did.
Security doubled.
Staff were investigated.
Cameras were replaced.
Harlan slept outside Belle's room.
I stayed too.
We discovered the sedative had been purchased through a private account.
The account belonged to the estate's chief physician.
Dr. Keller.
He denied everything.
Then we found footage.
He entered Belle's room.
He touched her medication.
He stayed for seven minutes.
He left.
Harlan fired him immediately.
But I wasn't convinced.
“What if he didn't act alone?”
Harlan looked at me.
“Who else?”
I pointed toward the camera.
“Someone told him where it was.”
Harlan understood.
We reviewed communications.
Dozens of employees had contact with outsiders.
One name appeared repeatedly.
His chief of staff.
Martin.
Martin had been with Harlan for fifteen years.
Harlan trusted him.
Maybe too much.
I found something strange.
Belle's school records had been accessed.
Her medical records.
Her daily routine.
Her medications.
All from Martin's terminal.
Harlan confronted him.
Martin denied it.
Then Belle walked in.
She stared at him.
“You're the man.”
Martin froze.
Harlan turned.
“What man?”
Belle pointed.
“The one who talks outside my room.”
Martin looked terrified.
Harlan's face turned cold.
“Get him out.”
Martin was arrested.
He confessed.
Someone had been paying him.
But he didn't know who.
The payments came through a shell company.
We traced it.
A name appeared.
Voss Medical Holdings.
Harlan stared.
“That company belonged to my father.”
I frowned.
“Your father?”
“He's dead.”
“How long?”
“Twenty years.”
“Then who controls it?”
“I don't know.”
We found old corporate documents.
A trust.
A hidden branch of the Voss empire.
Harlan's father had created it.
The beneficiary?
Belle.
If Harlan died, control would transfer to her.
But there was a clause.
If Belle died before adulthood, the trust would transfer to—
Harlan's uncle.
Victor Voss.
A man everyone believed had died twenty-five years earlier.
Harlan went silent.
“My uncle.”
“Could he still be alive?”
“I don't know.”
Belle came into the office holding a drawing.
She handed it to me.
A black SUV.
A little girl.
A man.
And a red X.
“Who is that?”
She pointed to the man.
“Uncle.”
“Victor?”
She nodded.
“Have you seen him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Garage.”
I looked at Harlan.
“When?”
Belle shrugged.
“Before you came.”
My blood chilled.
Someone had been visiting the mansion before I arrived.
Someone Belle recognized.
I asked her to draw him.
She did.
Tall.
Gray hair.
One scar.
Silver watch.
The same watch appeared in old photographs of Victor Voss.
Harlan stared.
“That watch belonged to him.”
“So he's alive.”
“Yes.”
He looked furious.
Then Belle whispered,
“He asked about Rue.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He wanted to know where you live.”
Harlan looked at me.
Suddenly, his attention changed.
“Why would he care about you?”
“I don't know.”
Harlan became distant.
“Maybe because you're close to Belle.”
“But that's not enough.”
“No.”
He stared at the drawing.
“Unless you're part of something else.”
I felt hurt.
“You think I'm involved?”
“I don't know.”
“Then don't accuse me.”
He stepped closer.
“I am protecting my daughter.”
“So am I.”
Silence.
He looked at me.
“I believe you.”
That mattered.
A lot.
That night, I called my sister.
Emily answered.
“How is your job?”
“Complicated.”
“You sound strange.”
“I met someone.”
She laughed.
“Already?”
“No.”
“He's dangerous.”
“That's not reassuring.”
“He has a daughter.”
“Ah.”
I smiled.
“She likes me.”
“Then you're doomed.”
I laughed.
Later, I returned to Belle's room.
She was asleep.
Harlan stood by the window.
“She looks peaceful.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For staying.”
I looked at him.
“You asked.”
“I didn't think you'd agree.”
“I didn't either.”
He smiled.
Then his phone rang.
His face hardened.
“What?”
A pause.
He hung up.
“Victor was seen.”
“Where?”
“Detroit airport.”
“He's coming here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Harlan looked at me.
“To get Belle.”
I felt cold.
We moved Belle to a secure location.
The estate emptied.
Only trusted people remained.
At midnight, security alarms went off.
Someone had breached the outer fence.
We rushed to the safe room.
Belle held my hand.
Harlan stood in front of us.
Gun drawn.
Footsteps.
Then—
nothing.
A message appeared on the screen.
YOU'RE PROTECTING THE WRONG CHILD.
Harlan looked at me.
Belle looked at me.
May you like
And suddenly, I knew the message wasn't for him.
It was for me.
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