Chapter 2 - The Ghost Camera
Damian woke up twenty-four hours later.
His throat felt like it had been scoured with broken glass. The room was dark, the heavy velvet curtains drawn shut. He was in his own bed, an IV line taped to the back of his hand. Silas was sitting in a leather wingback chair in the corner, cleaning a sidearm.
"You're awake," Silas said, not looking up from the gun. "Aris said it was a synthetic neurotoxin mixed with a high-grade allergen. Whoever did it knew about your walnut allergy, Damian. They weaponized it."
Damian closed his eyes. The memory flooded back. The Barolo. The suffocating grip in his throat. And then... the little girl with the rabbit backpack.
"The child," Damian rasped, his voice sounding like gravel.
"Lily. The new maid's daughter. She used her own EpiPen on you. Saved your life with about thirty seconds to spare."
Damian’s jaw tightened. "Where are they?"
"Safe room. Guarded. I’m interrogating the staff one by one."
"Stop," Damian ordered. He pushed himself up, wincing as his ribs protested. "If you interrogate them, the traitor knows we're looking. Who was in the study before I collapsed?"
"No one," Silas said. "I checked the security logs. The cameras in the west wing were disabled for maintenance at 3:00 PM. It had to be an inside job, but we have no eyes on the room."
Damian paused. A cold, dangerous light sparked in his dark eyes.
"They disabled the grid," Damian whispered. "But they didn't know about Mia's camera."
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Four years ago, when his daughter Mia was just a baby, Damian had been a paranoid father. He had installed a tiny, battery-operated nanny cam inside the hollowed-out spine of an encyclopedia on his top shelf. It recorded to a local SD card, completely disconnected from the mansion's main security network. He had left it running out of sentimentality after her death, changing the battery once a month in secret.
"Get me to the study," Damian commanded.
