Chapter 2 - Ninety Missing Days
Nathan did not allow Serena upstairs alone.
Chalet security supervisor Daniel Price accompanied her while she packed.
Maria changed Ava into dry pajamas and examined the back of her head.
No swelling.
No bruising.
The rug had protected her.
Nathan still called Ava’s pediatrician.
“Watch for unusual sleepiness, vomiting, difficulty walking beyond her normal toddler balance, or behavioral changes,” Dr. Levin advised. “If anything concerns you, take her to the emergency department.”
Nathan thanked him.
Maria watched him end the call.
“She seems all right.”
Nathan looked at Ava.
“That is not the same as what happened being all right.”
Maria nodded.
He had not apologized yet.
For believing Serena.
Nathan knew it.
Maria knew it.
The silence between them knew it.
Finally he said, “I should have listened to you.”
Maria folded Ava’s wet pajamas.
“You should have looked before deciding.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
Nathan winced.
He had walked into the room, seen his daughter crying, and immediately used authority instead of judgment.
“Maria—”
“Later.”
She nodded toward the security app.
“Find out what she deleted.”
Nathan called Jason Wu, the technology director for Cole Summit Hospitality.
Jason connected remotely.
“I’m seeing deletion commands from the household administrator profile.”
“Who has that login?”
“You.”
“Anyone else?”
“Serena was added six months ago.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
He remembered approving it.
Serena had complained that Ava’s camera alerts were waking him during investor meetings.
“I’m practically her stepmother,” she had said. “Why do I need to ask permission to see if she’s awake?”
Nathan had given her access.
Another careless decision made because saying yes was easier than thinking.
“Can deleted footage be recovered?” Nathan asked.
“Possibly. Your cameras mirror event clips to cloud storage for thirty days. Longer footage is stored locally.”
“How much did she delete?”
“Ninety days of local archives.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Can you see when?”
Jason paused.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“She didn’t delete them tonight.”
Nathan looked toward the foyer where Serena stood beneath Daniel’s supervision.
“When?”
“Deletion requests happened over multiple dates.”
Jason read them.
December 8.
December 19.
January 3.
January 18.
Today.
Maria listened.
“She has been deleting things for weeks.”
Serena overheard.
She turned.
“Because the system stores Ava crying. I told Nathan I was cleaning old recordings.”
“No, you didn’t,” Nathan said.
“You forget half of what I tell you.”
That landed.
Nathan did forget.
Especially when Serena spoke while he was working.
She knew it.
Daniel returned with two suitcases.
Serena put on her coat.
“Where will you go?” Nathan asked.
“My condo.”
The engagement had happened five months earlier, but Serena had kept her Denver apartment.
Nathan had once thought that independent streak attractive.
Now he wondered whether it was strategic.
Serena stopped beside him.
“You’re making a huge mistake.”
“I watched you hurt Ava.”
“I tipped a bottle.”
“You punished a baby.”
Serena lowered her voice.
“You have no idea what Maria says about you when you’re traveling.”
Maria’s face hardened.
Nathan did not take the bait.
“Leave.”
Serena’s eyes flicked toward Ava.
For one second something looked almost like grief.
Then it vanished.
She walked out.
The front door closed.
Snow swallowed the sound of her departing car.
At midnight Jason called back.
“We recovered fragments from the cloud.”
“How bad?”
“You should sit down.”
Nathan didn’t.
The first recovered clip showed Serena lifting Ava from her crib roughly after the baby refused to sleep.
Not enough to injure her.
Enough to make her scream.
Another showed Serena repeatedly taking a stuffed rabbit away when Ava reached for it.
“Say please,” Serena said.
Ava babbled.
Serena waited.
“Say it.”
A one-year-old child who could barely form words.
Another clip showed Maria entering and Serena immediately smiling.
The cruelty switched off like a lamp.
Nathan stared.
“How many?”
“Seventeen clips survived in event storage.”
Maria covered her mouth.
Nathan whispered, “Why didn’t Ava react to Serena around me?”
Maria looked at him.
“She did.”
He turned.
“What?”
“She became quiet.”
“I thought she liked Serena.”
“You thought quiet meant comfortable.”
Nathan remembered dinners.
Ava clinging to him whenever Serena approached.
Ava crying during Serena’s attempts to feed her.
Nathan had dismissed it as separation anxiety.
“How long have you suspected?” he asked.
Maria looked ashamed.
“Three weeks.”
Nathan’s anger surged.
“You knew?”
“I knew Serena was impatient. I did not know she was doing this.”
“You should have told me.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“December twenty-first.”
Nathan froze.
Christmas week.
He remembered Maria saying, “Serena is too hard on Ava.”
He had been reviewing an acquisition proposal.
He had answered without looking up.
“Maria, Serena is learning. Give her a chance.”
Maria’s eyes were wet.
“You told me not to undermine your future wife.”
Nathan sat down.
The accusation he had almost thrown at Maria died in his throat.
She had told him.
He had not listened.
Jason interrupted through the laptop.
“There’s something else.”
Nathan looked up.
“One of the deletion sessions wasn’t from Serena’s phone.”
“Whose?”
“A laptop.”
“Which laptop?”
Jason hesitated.
“Your office computer.”
Nathan frowned.
“I wasn’t here on January third.”
“I know.”
“Where was I?”
“New York.”
Maria slowly looked toward Nathan’s private study.
Someone had used his computer while he was gone.
Nathan asked the question both of them were thinking.
“What else did they access?”
Jason’s answer came ten minutes later.
“Estate documents.”
May you like
Nathan’s blood ran cold.
Because the only estate documents stored locally were the files concerning the twenty-eight-million-dollar trust established for Ava.
