Chapter 4
When I brought up the kids, Emily's eyes softened a bit.
She said, "They're really well-behaved. Victor keeps them on a tight leash when it comes to manners.
"He always says kids from noble families need to learn discipline from day one."
"Noble families?"' That phrase jumped out at me.
"Wait, Victor's actually a noble?" I asked.
"Yeah, his family's been around forever in Westland. Everyone respects them," Emily replied.
Her tone was weird, almost proud, but also kind of numb.
What I learn was an old-money noble family, the man of the house, obsessed with control, five kids, silent as dolls, and a woman bearing a mark of shame.
When I put all these clues together, my heart dropped.
This wasn't just some ordinary family drama.
There was something way darker and more twisted lurking beneath the surface.
I had to get to the bottom of it.
"Emily," I said.
I got up, moved over to her side, and took her hand.
"Emily, is there did something happen to your lower back?" I asked.
The words finally slipped out.
That question hit like a bolt of lightning, splitting the air between us.
Emily froze, turning to stone right before my eyes.
The color vanished from her face in a flash.
She jerked her hand back, as if she'd been bitten by a snake.
"What what did you just say?" Emily stammered.
Her voice was sharp, trembling with fear.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she snapped.
She stood up, her back to me, shoulders shuddering uncontrollably.
It was pure terror and panic, raw and unfiltered.
My heart twisted in pain, like it was caught in a vice.
But I knew I couldn't back down now.
I said, "I saw it out there in the garden.
"When you bent down, I couldn't help but notice."
I kept pushing her, refusing to back off.
I knew this was harsh, but it was the only way.
"Stop!" Emily whipped around, her voice low and fierce.
Her eyes were bloodshot, filled with desperation and a silent plea for mercy.
"Charlie, please, I'm begging you, just stop, okay?
"You didn't see anything. You don't know anything.
"Just stay here for a few days, keep your head down, and then go home.
"Please, I'm begging you, just this once."
She covered her face and broke down, crying in silence.
That muffled, painful sobbing felt like a dull knife, hacking away at my heart, one cut at a time.
Just then, the sound of the electronic lock disengaging echoed from the villa's front door.
Victor had returned.
Emily's sobs came to an abrupt halt.
It was like someone had hit her pause button; every trace of emotion vanished in an instant.
She wiped her tears away, smoothed her hair, and straightened her clothes, all in one swift motion.
The whole transformation took just a few seconds.
By the time Victor walked in, she was already the picture of the perfect hostess again.
She even managed a gentle smile.
"Honey, you're back," she greeted him softly.
Victor walked in and took off his coat.
His gaze flicked between us, sharp and searching.
"What are you two talking about?" he asked.
He smiled, but his gaze felt like an X-ray, piercing right through us.
"Nothing," Emily jumped in before I could answer.
"Just talking about some childhood memories," she added.
She walked over, took Victor's coat, and hung it up on the rack.
Her movements were smooth and practiced, her posture deferential.
Victor came over and dropped himself onto the couch right in front of me.
He looked at me and asked, "Charlie, settling in okay here?"
"Yeah, it's alright," I managed a smile.
"Glad to hear it," he replied.
He gave a small nod, then shifted his attention to Emily.
"Honey, I'm feeling a bit hungry. Mind fixing me something for tea?" he said, sounding all gentle.
"Sure," Emily answered right away.
She spun around and headed straight for the kitchen.
She never looked at me, not even once.
I watched her walk away, and my heart turned to ice.
That conversation was like a door flung open, only to be slammed shut right after.
I caught a glimpse of the darkness lurking behind it.
But now, that door was locked up even tighter.
Emily's fear and desperate plea sent me a crystal-clear message.
This topic was off-limits.
This secret could get people killed.
That afternoon, I locked myself away in my room.
I didn't show up for Victor's afternoon tea.
I just told them I needed to deal with the jet lag.
Honestly, it was the perfect excuse.
No one came knocking. No one cared.
I yanked the curtains closed, plunging the whole room into gloom.
Only in that darkness did I feel the tiniest bit safe.
I slumped down onto the carpet, pressing my back against the icy wall.
My thoughts were a total mess, buzzing and numb.
Emily's reaction confirmed my worst fears.
She was being controlled, by Victor, by this so-called perfect family, trapped in their grasp.
That mark was the invisible shackle on her.
What was I supposed to do?
Should I call the cops?
I was a total stranger in Westland, didn't even speak the language.
And I had nothing to back me up.
What did that mark even prove?
And about that whimper I heard, what did that mean?
Victor was a big shot, a so-called noble.
Who would believe a tourist's word over his?
They'd probably just think I was crazy.
Victor could even turn it around and say I was trying to mess up his family.
If that happened, not only would I fail to save Emily, I might get myself dragged into the mess too.
I couldn't just act on impulse.
I had to stay calm and hunt for solid evidence to prove that Victor was abusing her, holding her captive.
Once that idea took root, it grew wild, unstoppable.
I was no longer a sister visiting family. I'd become an undercover investigator.
I started replaying every detail of this villa in my mind.
It was way too clean, clean to the point it didn't even feel like a home with five kids.
It was way too quiet, quiet enough to make it feel like a tomb, empty and lifeless.
And then there was that middle-aged maid.
From the moment she showed up to when she finished clearing the table and left, she didn't say a single word.
Her eyes were empty, her movements stiff and robotic.
She was just like Emily and the kids.
All of them were soulless exhibits in this gilded cage.
Victor was the only real, living person here.
He was the one who set the rules, the master of everyone in this place.
I needed a plan, a plan that would let me move around this house and gather evidence without raising any suspicion.