Chapter 2: The Silent Watcher
Clara lay still, her eyes stinging with tears. She didn't fight back—she knew that if she did, Seraphina would use it to claim Clara was attacking her. But Clara had stopped being the naive victim weeks ago. She had noticed the subtle shifts in Julian’s behavior, the way he had started questioning Seraphina’s stories.
Three days ago, Julian had quietly installed a state-of-the-art security system, under the guise of "home protection." He had hidden a small, high-definition camera in the ornate plasterwork of the ceiling, directly above the foyer.
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As Seraphina paced, waiting for the "right time" to call Julian and report a "hysterical outburst" from Clara, she didn't look up. She was too obsessed with her own image, her own power, and the thrill of the hunt.
Above them, the tiny, glowing red light on the ceiling pulsed—a silent, digital pulse that was streaming every single movement, every cruel word, and every agonizing pressure point of Seraphina’s heel directly to Julian’s tablet, thousands of miles away in a boardroom in London.
