PART 4: The Electronic Witness
PART 4: The Electronic Witness
High-definition lenses capture chilling domestic setups.
The small, voice-activated high-definition security cube sat innocently on the upper shelf of the cherrywood bookcase in the formal living room, perfectly camouflaged among a row of leather-bound historical atlases.
From its elevated angle, the tiny lens commanded an unobstructed view of the entire central seating area, the marble coffee table, and the plush cream-colored sofa where Margaret spent her afternoons reading.
Friday afternoon arrived with the suffocating weight of an impending storm.
The sky outside the Buckhead estate turned a bruised, metallic gray, and the air grew heavy and humid.
Olivia had left the house at two o'clock for a final wedding dress fitting downtown, giving Michael the exact window of opportunity he needed.
He sat at his executive desk in the home office, his tablet resting beside his laptop, watching the live, encrypted feed streaming from the living room camera.
On the screen, Margaret was napping in her motorized chair, her breathing slow and even, while Sophie quietly dusted the mahogany mantelpiece with a soft feather duster.
Everything was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
At exactly 3:45 p.m., the front entry door unlatched, and Olivia strode into the foyer.
She looked flustered, her designer handbag clutched tightly under her arm, muttering angrily under her breath about traffic.
She walked into the living room, pausing when she saw Sophie working near the fireplace.
"Sophie," Olivia barked, her voice sharp enough to wake Margaret instantly.
The elderly woman blinked, sitting up straight in her chair.
"Yes, Miss Olivia?" Sophie asked politely, lowering her duster.
"I need you to go down to the basement storage room right now and bring up the spare silver candelabras," Olivia commanded, her eyes darting around the room with nervous energy. "The ones in the blue velvet trunk. Do it now before the guests arrive this evening."
"Right away, ma'am," Sophie replied, laying her duster down on the side table and walking quickly toward the service stairs.
The moment the basement door clicked shut behind the housekeeper, Olivia moved with terrifying, calculated speed.
She unclasped the glittering diamond tennis bracelet from her left wrist—the very piece of jewelry Michael had given her for their one-year anniversary—and peered down the hallway to ensure the coast was clear.
Then, she deliberately shoved the expensive jewelry deep beneath the heavy down cushion of the sofa.
May you like
She smoothed the fabric over, cleared her throat loudly to command the room, and turned her attention to Margaret.
The trap was officially set.
