Chapter 6 - The Eye in the Walls
Victoria stumbled back a step, shielding her eyes from the blinding blue light of the projector. "What is this?" she demanded, trying to sound authoritative, though her voice quavered. "What game are you playing?"
"This is not a game, Victoria," Julian said quietly, standing behind his desk like a judge at a tribunal. "This is an audit."
The screen flickered, revealing a crystal-clear, high-angle audio-visual recording. The date stamp in the lower right corner read three days ago, 2:14 PM.
The video displayed the interior of the second-floor nursery. The room was bathed in soft afternoon sunlight. Little Leo lay asleep inside his white wooden crib.
The nursery door in the video opened softly. Victoria stepped into the frame. Her face in the recording was completely transformed—devoid of the warm, smiling grace she put on when Julian was home. Her features were cold, hollow, and consumed by an unsettling, vacant hatred.
She walked slowly toward the crib. She stood over the sleeping infant for several seconds, her hands resting on the wooden rail. Then, without a word, she reached into the crib. Her long, manicured nails dug forcefully into the baby’s tiny, soft forearm, pinching the delicate skin with deliberate, sustained pressure until the child woke up screaming in agony.
On the screen, Victoria let out a soft, cruel laugh. She bent down close to the crying infant’s face and whispered, her voice captured crisp and clear by the high-grade directional microphone: "You miserable little leech. You think you're going to inherit his empire? You are nothing. Just a memory of a dead woman."
Victoria, standing in the study, gasped—a sharp, horrifying sound as if all the oxygen had been sucked from her lungs. Her knees buckled slightly, her back slamming against the edge of the leather sofa for support.
"No..." she whispered, her face draining of every drop of color until she looked as white as her dress. "No... that's... that's modified... that's AI generation..."
Julian didn't answer. He tapped the desk interface again.
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The video skipped to yesterday afternoon, 4:30 PM.
The screen showed the service hallway outside the nursery. Martha Vance was holding Leo, trying to walk toward the back stairs. Victoria rushed into the frame, her face twisted in rage, screaming obscenities at the older woman. When Martha tried to turn her body to protect the baby, Victoria raised her right hand—the heavy gold signet ring flashing in the light—and struck Martha full across the face with a sickening, wet SLAP. Martha collapsed against the doorframe, crying out in pain, while Victoria attempted to snatch the infant from her arms.
