CHAPTER 4 The Man Behind The Camera
The message remained on Thomas Reed’s phone for several seconds.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The old library clock continued ticking above the fireplace, each second louder than the last.
Eleanor had spent most of her life surrounded by powerful people.
Investors who smiled while trying to take control of her company.
Competitors who shook her hand before attempting to destroy her reputation.
Politicians who promised loyalty and later denied ever making promises.
She knew one thing about secrets.
They never stayed buried forever.
They only waited for the right person to uncover them.
“Who sent this?” Eleanor asked.
Thomas shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“Can you trace it?”
“I’m trying.”
Julian stepped forward.
“Stop.”
Everyone looked at him.
His voice was sharper now.
Not annoyed.
Not dismissive.
Afraid.
Eleanor noticed.
“Why?”
Julian’s expression hardened.
“Because someone is manipulating this family.”
Clara looked at him.
“You mean someone is exposing you.”
His eyes turned toward her.
The room became painfully quiet.
For years, Clara had probably avoided challenging him.
But tonight something had changed.
Maybe fear had finally reached its limit.
Maybe pain had finally become stronger than silence.
Julian stared at her.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Clara lowered her gaze.
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
Eleanor watched the exchange carefully.
The woman who had entered the cellar an hour ago barely able to speak was now sitting straighter.
Still afraid.
But no longer invisible.
That mattered.
“Thomas,” Eleanor said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Find out who accessed the cellar camera system.”
Julian laughed.
“You’re investigating your own son?”
Eleanor turned.
“I’m investigating what happened.”
“You already decided.”
“No.”
Her voice was calm.
“I decided that my daughter-in-law deserves the truth.”
The word struck him.
Daughter-in-law.
Not wife.
Not family member.
Something more protective.
Something that made Julian realize his mother had chosen a side.
And it wasn’t his.
Two hours later, the rain had become heavier.
The estate was quiet.
Most employees had left for the night.
Only security lights illuminated the vineyard roads.
Eleanor sat alone in her office, staring at old family photographs.
Her grandfather.
Her father.
Her late husband.
And Julian as a child.
A smiling boy standing between rows of young vines.
She remembered him holding her hand.
She remembered him asking questions about everything.
Why grapes changed color.
Why people lied.
Why some families had money and others didn’t.
She remembered him saying:
“I want everyone to respect me.”
Not love me.
Respect me.
The difference had seemed small back then.
Now it felt enormous.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Come in.”
Thomas entered.
He looked exhausted.
“What did you find?”
He placed a small folder on the desk.
“The camera footage.”
Eleanor opened it.
“Where is Julian?”
“In his room.”
“Good.”
Thomas hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The footage wasn’t deleted accidentally.”
Eleanor looked up.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone logged into the system using an administrator password.”
“Whose password?”
Thomas took a breath.
“Yours.”
Silence.
Eleanor slowly closed the folder.
“My password?”
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I thought so too.”
Thomas looked uncomfortable.
“But the access record shows your account.”
Eleanor stood.
“Someone used my identity.”
“Yes.”
“Who has access?”
“Only three people.”
Eleanor already knew.
“Me.”
Thomas nodded.
“Julian.”
A pause.
“And?”
Thomas looked toward the window.
May you like
“Clara.”
Eleanor froze.
