Chapter 2: The Eye in the Ceiling
The silence in the room was absolute, save for the rhythmic beeping of the house’s advanced alarm system. David, who had been silent in the hallway, stepped into the light. His face was a mask of grief and fury—not the performative anger he showed in public, but the raw, hollow ache of a man who realized the woman he loved was a stranger.
"I didn't believe her at first," David said, his voice cracking. He held up his smartphone. On the screen, a high-definition, time-stamped video played in a loop: Sarah, alone in the kitchen, meticulously crushing a white tablet into the tea. It wasn't just a sedative; it was a complex, slow-acting neurotoxin.
"You weren't just trying to take the house," David said, stepping closer to her. "You were trying to kill my mother. You were trying to kill the woman who welcomed you into this family, who gave you everything."
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Sarah’s confidence vanished. The "puppet master" facade crumbled as the reality of the evidence hit her. "It’s not what it looks like! Elena was losing her mind, she was—"
"Stop," Elena commanded. The authority in her voice made Sarah cower. "You were never framing me, Sarah. You were framing yourself."
