Soft footsteps echoed along the second-floor corridor of the Terano family home.
The chandelier’s light dripped gently from the ceiling, casting faint reflections across the cold marble floor.
Christine approached Peter’s bedroom door, her low heels making almost no sound.
In her hand, she carried a cup of hot chocolate—a simple excuse to come without raising suspicion.
But before her fingers could touch the doorknob, something happened.
A dim red light blinked on the side of the frame—a hidden sensor Peter had installed a few days earlier.
A soft *click* was followed by a sharp beep from inside the room.
The small alarm activated immediately, signaling someone’s approach.
Peter, who had been lying with his eyes closed, instantly got up and rushed back to his bed.
Within seconds, he was lying down again, pretending to be weak like a patient recovering from a long illness.
Three seconds later, a knock came.
*Knock.
Knock.
Knock.*
“Peter?” Christine’s voice was soft, almost teasing.
Without waiting for an answer, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Peter looked at her from his pillow.
“How are you?” Christine asked as she walked closer, her lips smiling—but her eyes were cold, calculating.
Peter shifted slightly, pulling his blanket aside.
“I’m tired of staying in this room,” he muttered flatly.
“Feels like house arrest.”
Christine chuckled lightly.
She sat on the chair near the bed, studying Peter’s pale face.
“You know, I’ve already sent my people to look for Flora.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, suspicious.
“Who are they?”
“No one important,” Christine replied casually.
“Just old college friends. They have pretty good connections around the city. You don’t need to worry.”
Peter stared at her for a long moment, as if weighing the truth behind her words.
“Why involve other people?” he finally hissed.
Christine scoffed.
“What can you expect from Braddy? He always messes things up.”
The irritation in her tone was clear.
She exhaled, brushing a strand of hair off her shoulder.
“That’s exactly why,” she said softly.
“I don’t want everything to depend on him. You know he can’t work without causing trouble.”
Peter clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“Seems like he’s unreliable,” he muttered.
He lay back, staring at the ceiling decorated with classical embossed patterns.
“This is all making me sick. I want out, Christine. I’m tired of being stuck here. Do you have any idea how I can leave without raising Mom’s suspicion?”
Christine thought for a moment, studying his tired expression.
Then she smiled faintly.
“What about a medical check-up at the hospital? It’s a reasonable excuse. Besides, you’re not fully recovered yet.”
Peter gave a thin smile—cynical, but agreeable.
“Good idea. Tell Mom.”
### **The Plan Moves**
A few hours later, the Terano family’s black car rolled out of the large gate.
Peter sat in the back seat, wearing a gray jacket and a black mask.
Christine sat beside him, gazing out the window.
The sky above the city was gloomy that afternoon—thick clouds hung over the tall buildings, adding weight to the air.
But from behind a pine tree across the street, someone was watching them.
Braddy.
He leaned against his motorcycle, wearing a dark leather jacket and a black cap that shadowed his face.
His sharp gaze followed the car as it disappeared around the corner.
As soon as it vanished, Braddy pulled out his phone and dialed a saved number.
“Can you do it in under an hour?” he asked, his voice flat but firm.
A voice on the other end replied, slightly noisy like from a workshop.
“Yeah.
Just need to install it.
Everything’s already set here.
Only takes a few minutes.”
“Good,” Braddy said briefly.
“Make sure no one gets suspicious.”
He ended the call and exhaled slowly.
His gaze shifted toward the Terano house—a grand residence standing like a fortress.
It looked peaceful from the outside, but inside, secrets and lies smoldered like embers beneath ash.
Braddy slipped in through the side entrance.
### **The Mysterious Van**
Five minutes later, a white van marked *“Air Conditioning & Cooling Services”* entered the Terano residence.
Two men in blue uniforms stepped out, carrying large toolboxes.
From behind the living room window, Celestine—Peter’s mother—watched them with a frown.
“What are they doing here?” she asked Braddy, who was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper.
“My AC was smoking,” Braddy replied casually without looking up.
“I was worried about a short circuit or a small fire, so I called technicians.”
Celestine glanced at him.
“You should’ve told me first.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Braddy answered quickly, calm on the surface but calculating underneath.
“I was just concerned about the house’s safety. Besides, they’re just installing a new filter.”
Celestine sighed, too busy with her schedule to dwell on it.
She grabbed her handbag.
“Fine. I have to go. Make sure they don’t cause any trouble.”
As soon as the front door closed, Braddy looked toward the stairs with a faint smile.
“Now we begin,” he murmured.
### **Installation**
Within half an hour, the mansion quietly turned into a covert operation zone.
The two fake technicians—actually Braddy’s men—worked swiftly and silently.
They didn’t just fix the air conditioning; they installed **six tiny button-sized cameras** in strategic locations: inside a photo frame in the living room, a vent in the corridor, a bookshelf in the library, and most importantly—in Peter’s bedroom.
One camera was even hidden inside a deer-head wall decoration above Peter’s desk.
“Good angle,” one technician muttered, checking the feed on a small tablet.
“We can see the whole room from here.”
Braddy nodded.
“Make sure all signals are stable and connected to my system.”
The technician typed several quick commands.
One by one, the camera feeds appeared on the screen—clear, sharp, almost without delay.
“All set,” the technician reported.
Braddy stared at the screen for a moment, eyes narrowing.
Peter’s room looked neat, unchanged.
But now, every movement, every whisper inside would be recorded.
“Good work,” he said shortly.
“Leave through the side door.”
When the van left, the Terano house returned to its usual silence.
No one realized that from that afternoon on, every step inside was being watched by unseen electronic eyes.
### **Shadows on the Screen**
Night fell slowly.
Braddy sat in his chair inside his second-floor room, now transformed into a surveillance hub.
The monitor in front of him displayed six video feeds from different angles of the house.
He sipped his now-cold coffee, eyes fixed on one screen—Peter’s room.
Peter had just returned from the hospital.
He looked tired, but not from illness—more from restlessness.
Christine sat beside him briefly, speaking softly.
“I can’t stay long,” Christine said.
“What are you going to do?” Peter asked.
“I hope you find Flora soon.”
Christine laughed softly, though it sounded hollow.
“I’m sure my team will get it done sooner or later. In the meantime, be careful. We can’t let anyone discover our lie.”
Peter looked at her dully.
“I want this mission finished quickly. I’m tired of this.”
Christine didn’t respond.
She simply stared back, her expression unreadable.
Then she stood, adjusting her small bag.
“Get some rest, Peter. I’ll come back tomorrow morning.”
After the door closed, Peter stared at the ceiling.
He let out a long breath—then suddenly, his eyes shifted toward the corner of the room.
Something unsettled him.
Maybe just a feeling.
But he sensed… he was being watched.
### **The Sleepless Eyes**
In the next room, Braddy—startled by the conversation—zoomed in on the screen.
He saw Peter staring directly toward the camera’s position.
Braddy’s jaw tightened.
“He’s starting to suspect,” he muttered.
But he didn’t turn the camera off.
Instead, he pressed the *record* button on his keyboard.
“Even better. I want to know what he’s really hiding.”
Minutes later, Peter got out of bed and retrieved something from beneath his desk drawer—a black envelope.
He opened it slowly.
Braddy squinted at the contents: an old photograph and a piece of paper bearing the name **“Florentina”** written in red ink.
“So that’s your secret…” Braddy whispered.
On the screen, Peter stared at the photo for a long time, as if speaking to someone no longer there.
“I’ll find her,” he murmured, almost inaudible.
Braddy smiled faintly.
“You won’t have the chance,” he whispered to the screen.
### **The Scent of Danger**
In the days that followed, the atmosphere in the house shifted.
Christine visited often under the pretense of checking on Peter, but each time, she brought something—documents, a new phone, sometimes even a box of food that Peter never touched.
Celestine began to grow suspicious, though she had no proof.
From his room, Braddy monitored everything.
Every conversation was recorded, every movement stored in encrypted files.
He knew now a new game had begun.
Peter might not just be a wealthy boy grieving a missing friend.
He was hiding something far bigger—something even Christine seemed to be trying to control.
That night, Braddy shut off the screen and turned off the lights.
Outside, rain began to fall.
And in Peter’s room, the tiny camera kept recording—an unblinking, cold eye silently watching someone who didn’t yet realize he was living under surveillance.
From the outside, the Terano house looked as calm as ever.
But behind its walls, something had changed forever: trust—once fragile—was now completely gone.
And between dim light and hidden shadows, someone was already preparing the next move—one that could change the fate of everyone inside that house.