CHAPTER 3 — THE MISSING ELEVEN SECONDS
Ethan drove directly to the hotel security office.
Noah Reed had worked for the Blackwood family for more than a decade. He was not a man easily frightened.
That night, he looked terrified.
He locked the office door behind Ethan and removed a small flash drive from his pocket.
“I made this before the system was wiped.”
“You said eleven seconds were missing.”
“From the official recording.”
Noah inserted the drive into an offline laptop.
“This came from a second camera inside the service corridor.”
The video began three minutes before Claire fell.
Claire stood beside the chair, appearing unsteady. Vanessa entered carrying two champagne glasses.
They argued.
There was no audio, but Vanessa’s expression changed from smug to furious.
Then a third person appeared at the far end of the corridor.
Only part of the figure was visible.
A dark evening gown.
A pearl bracelet.
A cane with a silver handle.
Ethan recognized all three.
His mother, Margaret Blackwood, had worn them at the gala.
In the footage, Margaret gave Vanessa a subtle nod.
Vanessa placed one hand on the back of Claire’s chair.
The screen went black.
“That is where the deleted section begins,” Noah said.
“Why would my mother authorize this?”
“I don’t know. But someone has been monitoring Mrs. Blackwood for months.”
Noah opened another folder.
Photographs filled the screen.
Claire leaving her doctor’s office.
Claire meeting an attorney.
Claire visiting her mother’s grave.
Claire standing outside a closed private clinic north of the city.
Ethan pointed at the final image.
“Where is that?”
“St. Aldwyn Recovery Center. It closed twelve years ago.”
“Why was Claire there?”
“You should ask her.”
A fire alarm suddenly screamed through the building.
Red lights flashed overhead.
Noah removed the drive.
“This is not a drill.”
The hallway outside filled with smoke.
Ethan grabbed Noah’s arm, but Noah pushed the flash drive into his hand.
“Take the service stairs. Don’t trust anyone from the foundation.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll shut down the servers.”
Ethan reached the parking garage and called Noah repeatedly.
There was no answer.
When firefighters cleared the building forty minutes later, the security office was empty.
Noah was gone.
So was the laptop.
Ethan returned home just before dawn.
Claire had been discharged under the protection of two private guards. She sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, waiting for him.
He showed her the photograph of St. Aldwyn.
Claire stared at it for several seconds.
“I went there because my mother’s name appeared in an old employment record.”
“You told me she worked at a public hospital.”
“That was what I believed.”
Ethan held up the flash drive.
“My mother was in the hallway when you fell.”
Claire’s expression hardened.
“Then Vanessa was not acting alone.”
A faint sound came from the nursery upstairs.
The couple froze.
Their baby had not been born, and the room was supposed to be empty.
Ethan told Claire to stay downstairs and climbed the stairs.
The nursery door was open.
A small audio monitor sat in the center of the crib.
It had not been there when they left for the gala.
A man’s recorded voice played through the speaker.
“Ethan, your father is alive.”
The message repeated.
Then the lights went out.
When the emergency power returned, the front door was standing open.
The flash drive was gone from Ethan’s hand.
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And written across the nursery wall were six words:
ASK CLAIRE WHAT SHE DID IN 2022.
