Patricia smiled when she saw my face. She thought my silence meant fear.
“You heard me,” she said. “This is Daniel’s house. His money. His life. You’re just lucky he lets you enjoy it.”
I glanced toward the corner of the ceiling, where a tiny black security camera blinked.
Daniel’s eyes followed mine for half a second.
His expression shifted.
Not with guilt.
With calculation.
“Rachel,” he said, lowering his voice, “don’t make this dramatic.”
I laughed once.
It came out cold.
