Chapter 2
I stared at Mr. Henderson like his words had opened a hole beneath my feet.
“What do you mean?”
He looked down the hallway again.
His hands tightened around the phone.
“I don’t know enough yet.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he said softly. “It isn’t.”
My wet dress clung to my legs.
Water dripped from my hair onto the bedroom floor.
The house felt too quiet below us.
Victoria was inside now.
Somewhere.
Angry.
Planning.
Mr. Henderson stepped into my room and closed the door behind him.
“I need you to listen carefully, Emma.”
I swallowed.
“Okay.”
“Your father cannot be the first person to see this video.”
My heart dropped.
“Why not?”
“Because Victoria has had all afternoon to prepare a story.”
“She always does.”
“I know.”
The sadness in his voice made me look up.
He had been working for our family since before Mom died.
He had planted the roses beside the east fence because Mom loved yellow flowers.
He had taught me how to tell basil from weeds.
He had never spoken against Victoria before.
Not once.
But now his face looked older than I had ever seen it.
“Mr. Henderson,” I whispered. “What happened before?”
He looked at the window.
At the pool beyond the glass.
“Last winter, I found rocks in the deep end after every storm.”
“So?”
“They were not landscaping rocks. They came from near the old fountain.”
I frowned.
“The fountain by the guesthouse?”
He nodded.
“The one your mother used to sit near.”
My chest tightened.
Mom had drowned three years ago.
Not in the pool.
In the lake behind our summer house, according to everyone.
A boating accident.
I was ten then.
Dad broke after that.
Victoria appeared six months later.
Kind at first.
Soft voice.
Warm hands.
“She understands grief,” Dad told me.
But she never understood mine.
She only used it.
“What does Mom have to do with rocks in the pool?” I asked.
Mr. Henderson hesitated.
Before he could answer, heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.
Victoria.
“Emma!” she screamed. “Open this door!”
I jumped.
Mr. Henderson shoved his phone into my hands.
“Hide this.”
I ran to my closet and slipped it into my rain boot.
Victoria slammed her palm against the door.
“Open it right now!”
Mr. Henderson stood by the desk.
Calm.
Still.
I unlocked the door with shaking fingers.
Victoria burst in.
Her hair was wet.
Her blouse was torn where I had grabbed it.
Her eyes moved from me to Mr. Henderson.
“What are you doing in her bedroom?”
He folded his hands.
“Checking on her.”
Her mouth twisted.
“How touching.”
She looked at me.
Then her face changed.
The tears came instantly.
Fake.
Perfect.
“You attacked me,” she whispered. “You dragged me into the pool.”
My stomach turned.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You could have killed me.”
“You pushed me first.”
She stepped closer.
“Who will believe you?”
Mr. Henderson said, “I will.”
Victoria slowly turned toward him.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You are staff.”
He did not flinch.
“I am a witness.”
Victoria laughed.
“Then witness this.”
She lifted her own phone and pressed call.
“Richard?” she sobbed into it. “Come home. Emma tried to drown me.”
My blood went cold.
Dad’s voice buzzed faintly through the speaker.
“What?”
“She pulled me into the pool,” Victoria cried. “She’s unstable. I’m scared of her.”
I grabbed the bedpost.
Mr. Henderson reached for my shoulder but stopped.
Victoria looked straight at me while she cried.
“She’s locked herself in her room with Henderson. I don’t know what they’re planning.”
Dad said something I couldn’t hear.
Victoria sniffed.
“Please hurry.”
She ended the call.
Then all the tears vanished.
“Both of you are finished.”
Mr. Henderson’s jaw tightened.
“Mrs. Caldwell, you should leave this child alone.”
“This child,” Victoria hissed, “has been ruining my marriage since the day I walked into this house.”
“I was here first,” I whispered.
She turned on me.
“Yes. That was always the problem.”
The sentence hit strangely.
Not like anger.
Like truth slipping out.
Then we heard it.
A car pulling into the driveway.
Dad.
May you like
Victoria smiled.
“Now we’ll see who he believes.”
