The Vent

Elena stared at the vent cover. The paint was smooth, unbroken, a perfect cream rectangle against the baseboard. But Maya was right. Up close, there was a hairline fracture in the lacquer around the screws. Someone had opened it, carefully, and resealed it with a touch-up brush.

"How long?" Elena whispered.

"Since I hit puberty," Maya said, her voice devoid of emotion. She walked back to the window seat and sat down, pulling her knees up again. "Grandmother likes to keep an eye on her investments."

Elena felt sick. She looked around the room—the sanctuary of a teenage girl, filled with posters and stuffed animals and dreams. And hidden in the walls, a digital eye, recording every moment of privacy, every secret, every tear.

It wasn't just about money. It was about control. Total, absolute control.

"We need to get it out," Elena said, reaching for the vent.

"Don't," Maya said sharply. "It's motion-activated. If you mess with it, it sends an alert to the Annex. Seraphina will be here in three minutes with a 'maintenance crew'."

Elena pulled her hand back. "So we just leave it?"

"We feed it," Maya said. She pointed to a pile of dirty clothes near the closet. "I throw my laundry there. It blocks the angle. Most of the time."

Elena looked at her stepdaughter. She had always thought Maya was distant, spoiled, a typical rich kid shutting out the stepmother. But that wasn't distance. It was survival. Maya had been living in a panopticon her whole life.

"Maya," Elena said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "I need your help."

"With what? The drive in your pocket?" Maya looked at Elena’s trousers. "Leo gave it to you, didn't he? He's the only one who still cares about my mom."

"Yes," Elena said. She didn't insult Maya by lying. "It's evidence. Proof of what they did. To your mother. To me. To the trust."

"And you want to hide it in my room because it's the last place they'll look."

"Yes."

Maya was silent for a moment. She picked at a loose thread on her pajama pants. "If they find it, they'll send me away. Boarding school in Switzerland. The one with the high walls."

"If they find it," Elena said, "I'm going to prison. And your trust fund—the money your mother left you—is gone. They drained it, Maya. To pay for the Gala. To pay for their lifestyle."

Maya’s head snapped up. "My trust is empty?"

"Yes."

The indifference cracked. For the first time, Elena saw the anger beneath the surface. It was hot and sharp, a mirror of her own.

"Give it to me," Maya said.

She held out her hand.

Elena hesitated. She was handing a sixteen-year-old a grenade. But she had no choice. She was the primary target. Maya was still, for now, an asset to be protected.

She placed the drive in Maya’s hand.

Maya closed her fingers around it. She stood up and walked to her vanity. It was cluttered with bottles of perfume, hairspray, lotions. She picked up a jar of thick, white body cream.

She unscrewed the lid. She shoved the drive deep into the cream, pushing it down until it was completely submerged. She smoothed the surface with her finger, then screwed the lid back on.

"Grandmother hates this brand," Maya said. "She says it smells cheap. She'll never touch it."

She placed the jar back on the tray, right in the open.

"Thank you," Elena said.

"Don't thank me," Maya said, turning back to the window. "Just burn them down."

A knock on the door made them both jump.

"Elena?" It was Julian’s voice. "Are you in there?"

Maya looked at Elena. Her expression shifted instantly. The anger vanished, replaced by a bored, teenage sullenness.

"Hide the laundry basket," she whispered.

Elena shoved the basket behind the chair. She smoothed her hair.

"Come in," Maya called out.

Julian opened the door. He was still wearing his suit trousers and a dress shirt, though the tie was gone. He looked exhausted.

"There you are," he said to Elena. "Dr. Thorne is leaving. He wants to do a final check before he signs off on the... episode."

"I'm fine," Elena said. "I was just helping Maya with her..."

"Biology," Maya said, not looking away from the window. "She was quizzing me on parasites."

Julian flinched. He looked from his daughter to his wife, sensing the current running between them but unable to name it.

"Right," he said. "Well. Mother is waiting in the breakfast room. We need to sign the loan authorization. The courier is here."

Elena looked at Maya. Maya didn't look back. But she tapped her finger against the glass, a slow, steady rhythm.

*Burn them down.*

"I'm coming," Elena said.

She walked to the door. As she passed the vanity, she glanced at the jar of cream. It sat there, innocent and white, holding the bomb that would destroy Hawthorne Manor.

But as she followed Julian into the hall, she noticed something.

The red light on the smoke detector in the hallway wasn't blinking green like it usually did.

It was blinking red.

Fast.

It wasn't a smoke detector.

It was recording right now.