## Chapter 4
Griffin moved into Cross Estate immediately, explaining to everyone that the child needed family beside her. What the cameras recorded told a different story.
He sat down in Ezra’s black leather chair, opened drawers, leafed through confidential documents. He called private meetings with senior members, in Ezra’s room, in Ezra’s chair. Victor attended every one, watching, listening, waiting to see which side was worth his wager.
Paige began taking inventory of the mansion’s valuables — the paintings, the antiques, and most of all, Nadia’s jewelry, still kept in the red velvet box in the master bedroom.
Meanwhile, Rosie was forgotten. No one asked whether she was hungry. No one read her a story before bed. No one except Willa.
One evening in the kitchen, Rosie asked quietly, “Willa, does Uncle Griffin love Rosie?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because he never looks at me. He only looks at things.” In the dark room miles away, Ezra heard every word through the microphone. His jaw tightened until it hurt. A five-year-old had seen through Griffin more clearly than anyone else.
The second week began, and everything fell apart faster than Ezra had imagined. Griffin summoned Willa into the study. Paige was already there, standing beside the desk. On black velvet lay Nadia’s diamond necklace — the one Ezra had given his wife on their wedding day.
“We found this in your room,” Griffin said.
“I didn’t take it. I’ve never even entered Mrs. Nadia’s room.”
“You dared to steal my cousin’s belongings,” Paige said, cold as ice.
“Two choices,” Griffin cut in. “Leave now, or I call the police and you leave in handcuffs.”
Willa understood the cruel truth. She had been framed. “You know I didn’t do it.”
Griffin’s smile never touched his cold eyes. “What I know is that you’re no longer necessary. Fifteen minutes.”
Willa was pushed into the hallway, where she came face to face with Rosie, who ran forward and wrapped both arms around her. “Don’t go, Willa. Don’t go.”
“Be good, Rosie. Listen to the grown-ups. Willa will come back.” She didn’t know if it was true. She only knew she couldn’t cry in front of the child.
One of Griffin’s men pulled Rosie away by the shoulder. The child screamed and struggled. The great front door slammed shut in Willa’s face. Rosie’s crying echoed from inside, then grew fainter, then disappeared.
In the surveillance room, Ezra surged to his feet so suddenly the chair crashed backward. “He made my little girl cry.”
“I know,” Miles said, holding him back. “But if you go now, we still won’t know who was behind the assassination attempt. We need more time.”
Ezra turned back to the screen. Rosie sat alone in her room, clutching her teddy bear, no longer crying — only sitting there, silent, empty.
“Record everything,” Ezra said, cold as ice, fury waiting beneath it. “When I come back, I want them to have nowhere left to run.”
