Chapter 5 - Someone Was Already Inside
Dorian did not run upstairs.
Running announced fear.
Instead he looked at Marco and held out the phone.
Marco read the message.
His face changed.
“Impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
The photograph showed Alina asleep beneath the cream blanket.
Timestamp: 12:43 a.m.
Current time: 12:45.
Someone was inside the lake house.
Dorian’s entire security team moved without alarms.
No shouting.
No chaos.
He took the stairs two at a time only after Marco confirmed the upper hallway was clear.
Alina’s door remained locked.
He knocked.
No response.
“Alina.”
Nothing.
His heart stopped.
He unlocked the door with the emergency key.
She sat upright immediately.
“What happened?”
Dorian scanned the room.
Window.
Closet.
Bathroom.
Nothing.
“Get dressed.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Now.”
“No. Tell me.”
He handed her the phone.
She stared at the photograph.
Then slowly looked toward the window.
“Someone was here?”
“Or has access to the camera system.”
She climbed out of bed.
Five minutes later they discovered the truth.
The photograph had not been taken that night.
It was an older image from months before.
The sender had altered the timestamp.
“It’s psychological,” Marco said.
Dorian looked at Alina.
“Someone wants us reacting.”
“Then we stop reacting,” she said.
He almost objected.
Instead he nodded.
That mattered.
Over the next two days, Alina became part of the investigation.
Not protected from it.
Part of it.
She reviewed household schedules.
Old photographs.
Staff lists.
She noticed patterns Dorian’s men had missed because they were searching for enemies.
Alina searched for familiarity.
On the third afternoon, she found it.
“Dorian.”
He came immediately.
She pointed at three photographs.
The same woman appeared in the background.
At their wedding.
At Celeste’s birthday.
At a charity gala.
Dorian frowned.
“Isabel.”
“Who is she?”
“My mother’s assistant.”
“No.”
“What?”
“She isn’t watching your mother.”
Alina moved the photographs closer.
In every image, Isabel’s eyes were on Dorian.
Not Celeste.
Not the room.
Dorian.
Marco began digging.
Within an hour they found hidden transfers.
Within two, they found communications with Viktor Soren.
By sunset, Isabel had disappeared.
But she left something behind.
A letter.
Not for Dorian.
For Alina.
It contained only one sentence.
ASK YOUR HUSBAND WHO REALLY ORDERED THE HIT THREE YEARS AGO.
Alina stared at the words.
Three years ago.
Their wedding year.
The armored car.
The bullets.
The night she learned what Dorian’s world really was.
She looked across the room.
Dorian’s face told her everything.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He did not answer.
“Dorian.”
His voice was almost inaudible.
May you like
“My father.”
And suddenly the story Alina thought she understood shattered again.
