Denise didn’t go to her room.
Not this time.
She moved through the mansion like she already knew it was watching her.
Because it was.
The difference was subtle at first—so subtle she almost convinced herself she was imagining it.
A pause in staff movement when she entered a hallway.
A camera adjusting slightly too late.
A door that clicked after she passed it, not before.
Like the house was reacting instead of anticipating.
Denise slowed her steps.
“That’s new,” she murmured.
She stopped near a junction of corridors.
Two directions.
Both unfamiliar.
Both wrong in different ways.
She chose the one with fewer guards.
Or what looked like fewer guards.
Halfway down, she noticed something else.
Footsteps.
Behind her.
Matching hers.
Not close enough to be threatening.
Not f
