The Glitch Escalate

"Like a fish." The simile swam in Elena's gut, slimy and cold. She retreated upstairs, claiming she needed to check Leo’s oxygen saturation. It was the only excuse that Marcus never questioned.

Inside the nursery, the air was thick with the hum of machinery. Leo was asleep, his chest rising and falling in the mechanical rhythm that governed their lives. Elena checked the pulse oximeter—98%—and then sank into the nursing chair in front of the master monitor console.

This screen was the nerve center. A split-screen display showing Leo’s vitals, the room temperature, and a live video feed of the crib. Marcus had upgraded it last month. *Top of the line,* he’d bragged. *Military-grade encryption.*

Elena stared at the video feed. Leo’s sleeping face was rendered in high-definition grayscale.

Then, the screen blinked.

A jagged line of static tore across the display. The image of the crib dissolved, replaced by a wash of digital noise.

Elena tapped the screen. "Come on."

The static cleared. But the image that resolved wasn't the crib.

It was a living room. Leather furniture. A Persian rug. A fire burning in a stone hearth.

The guest house.

The feed was coming from the camera built into the smart TV in the cottage's main room. Elena recognized the angle—low, looking up from the entertainment console.

Val was there.

She wasn't wearing the kimono anymore. She was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, sprawled on the sofa with her boots up on the antique coffee table. *Boots on the mahogany.* The real Diana would have had an aneurysm.

Val held a glass of dark liquid—bourbon, neat, by the look of it. She swirled it, staring at something just out of frame. She looked bored. Predatory.

She was speaking.

Elena fumbled for the volume knob on the console, twisting it up.

"... pathetic," Val’s voice tinny through the speakers. "She's shaking like a leaf. I give her two days before she cracks."

Elena froze.

Val took a sip of the bourbon, then slammed the glass down. She stood up, pacing the rug. She gestured wildly with her hands, her face contorting into a mask of exaggerated, tearful concern.

"Oh, Elena," she wailed, her voice pitching up into a mocking falsetto. "I just want to help. I just want to be a sister."

She dropped the act instantly, her face settling back into a sneer. "God, I'm good."

The door to the nursery opened behind Elena.

"El? Everything okay?"

Marcus.

Elena spun around, her body blocking the screen. "Fine. Just... a signal drop."

Marcus stepped into the room. His eyes flicked over her shoulder to the monitor.

Elena turned back. The screen flickered violently. The guest house vanished. Leo’s crib reappeared, silent and still.

"Looks clear to me," Marcus said, stepping closer. He put a hand on the back of her chair, leaning in. "You really need to relax. The tech is solid."

"It glitched," Elena whispered. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"It's the storm," Marcus said soothingly. "Interference."

He squeezed her shoulder and left.

Elena waited until his footsteps faded down the hall. She turned back to the screen, her mind replaying the last three seconds of the feed before Marcus entered.

Val hadn't been on the phone. She hadn't been talking to the deep voice.

She had been standing in front of the mirror above the fireplace, watching her own reflection cry on command.