She walked out calmly, heels clicking on the marble. Ariston watched the door close behind her and then looked at Sky.
“You saved her,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “A seven-year-old child saw what I didn’t.”
Sky just nodded. She didn’t know what to say.
Ariston pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling my lawyer,” he said. “And a doctor. This ends today.”
Before he could dial, his phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number flashed on the screen.
We know you know.
Don’t involve authorities. We’ll discuss terms.
Below the text was a photo. Eloin sleeping in her bed, taken from above. The timestamp was from the night before.
Someone was watching them.
An hour later, Ariston sat in his office with his head of security, his lawyer—a sharp-eyed woman in her fifties—and both girls. Eloin sat curled into the corner of the leather couch. Sky sat so close their shoulders touched.
“Check every camera,” Ariston told security. “Every feed. Every device. Start with my daughter’s room.”
Within hours, they found them—tiny cameras hidden in air vents, light fixtures, even inside Eloin’s favorite teddy bear. Twelve cameras in total, all installed over the past few months.