He continued on the phone, his voice low and steady::
"Then Crimson Night stepped forward and asked me, in front of everyone, 'Who were those staying with you, Northern Dark?'"
My fingers curled tighter around the phone as his words grew heavier.
"I tried to play it cool—'What do you mean, Cri—'
But she cut me off and pulled out a photograph. 'Well, well… what about this?'
I froze. My chest tightened. I stared at the photo.
Finally, I answered, 'One is Caroline Garnier… and the other is the late neighbour's daughter, Nancy. Nancy has been living with me for years. I've kept Caroline under close watch—brought her from a rented room into my house. Bribed her, threatened her. She's compliant.'
'I even bribed the HR manager at Velvéra to switch the original passed candidate with Caroline. She's got no family—an orphan. Easy to move. As for why I didn't report this earlier… well, I planned to include it all in the post-mission report. I didn't find it necessary until now.'
'And Nancy? She's just a neighbour's child. I don't trust her to be part of the organisation. Not worth mentioning.'"
His voice faltered slightly. Just for a breath.
"The Boss turned to Crimson Night. 'Anything you'd like to add?'
'Absolutely nothing, Boss,' she said. Smirking behind those goggled lenses, her face half-shadowed under that brimmed hat.
'Then you'll send him daily reports on Caroline Garnier's activities. Understood?'
'Understood,' I replied.
'Good. You're dismissed.'
And that was it. I walked out."
I exhaled slowly. "That's… heavy."
"Don't relax just yet," Dad warned. "Crimson Night is planning something. I saw it in her smile. She's not done. Be careful."
"I will," I whispered.
The line went dead.
Stillness.
Then I opened my laptop, connected the USB, and uploaded the encrypted voice recording. I sent it directly to Dad.
Meanwhile, at Nancy's House…
In the quiet bedroom, the soft glow of a nightlight fell across Nancy's sleeping face. She lay tucked under blankets, a storybook resting on her chest.
Amber Dubois sat beside her, reading in a soft, steady rhythm until Nancy's breathing slowed.
Peaceful.
She rose gently, tucked the book aside, and adjusted the blanket around Nancy's shoulders.
Then, without a sound, Amber left the room.
She entered her adjacent quarters, closed the door—and locked it.
Her face changed.
She pulled out her phone and dialed a contact saved as: Mrs. Bourgeois – Principal.
The line connected.
"Hello, Amber. You had asked to call me tonight—after putting Nancy to sleep?"
"Yes, Mrs. Bourgeois. I just wanted to update you."
She hesitated.
"Everything seemed fine. But there's something… about Ariadne. Her older sister. I thought I should mention it."
"Go on," said the principal, tone curious.
"She showed up straight from work. Formal attire. When I welcomed her, she just… stared at me. Like she was scanning me. While I was cooking, she kept glancing over. Not casually—like a rival. Someone measuring threat level."
"Interesting…" Mrs. Bourgeois murmured.
"And another thing— they live in a mansion. Everything screams wealth. Ariadne, Thomas, even this Caroline girl. But none of them act like a typical upper-class family. It's all… off."
Silence.
"Mrs. Bourgeois?"
Static.
Then a breath.
"Amber… you said Ariadne works somewhere?"
"Yes, ma'am. Full uniform. Office wear. Don't tell me she's unemployed?"
"…Amber," the principal's voice dropped, almost into a whisper. "There's no employment record. None. My system shows zero for Thomas Oak as well. It says he's a director of a food company, but that company doesn't exist in any registered database."
Amber's face paled.
"So… they're lying."
"Exactly. Whatever they're hiding, it's deliberate. You're to stay close. Monitor everything. If anything seems out of place, report to me immediately."
"Understood."
The call ended.
Amber stared at her phone, brows furrowed.
Without pause, she dialed again—Caroline Garnier, her only true friend in this web of unfamiliarity.
The number you have dialed is currently switched off. Please try again later.
Her grip tightened.
She tried once more. Same result.
The call dropped.
She stared blankly at the dark screen.
Her hand trembled.
Her fingers clenched around the phone.
And then—without warning—
Tears.
Slow. Silent. Real.
Rolling down her cheeks, cutting across the icy poise she always wore.
The room stayed silent.
Only the soft hum of the refrigerator echoed in the background.
Amber wiped her face. Once. Then again.
But the tears kept falling.