Emma knew the cameras had moved.
Not visibly.
Not in a way most people would notice.
But she did.
The one in the hallway now angled half an inch lower. The one near the staircase tracked slightly longer before resetting. Subtle recalibrations. Precision adjustments.
Not upgrades.
Surveillance refinement.
Dominic had felt the shift in her.
And Dominic did not tolerate variables.
She stood at the kitchen island early the next morning, fingers wrapped around a glass of water she hadn’t touched. Outside, the estate grounds looked peaceful — frost clinging to the hedges, the horizon pale and indifferent.
Behind her, footsteps.
Measured.
She didn’t turn.
“You’re awake early,” Dominic said.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He walked to the coffee machine. The domestic sound of it whirring felt
