Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Attic
I spent the night moving through the villa like a shadow. My blindness had forced me to memorize the house's architecture, and now, that knowledge was my greatest tactical advantage. I bypassed the squeaky floorboard in the hall and crept toward the service stairs leading to the attic—a place my father rarely visited.
In the corner of the attic, I found a loose floorboard. Beneath it was a small, battery-operated recorder. I pressed play.
“They are not your parents, Ella. They are the Shadow Syndicate. They need the location of your father’s research notes on the memory-retention serum. If they think you are still blind, they believe you are the only one who can navigate the old family vault. Don't let them know you can see. I am trying to get you out. —Noah.”
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My heart hammered against my ribs. Noah was alive. He wasn't one of them. But if he was trying to rescue me, why hadn't he come yet? I heard a floorboard creak below. The woman. She was coming up. I quickly shoved the recorder into my pocket, slid the floorboard back, and flattened myself against the rafters just as the attic door groaned open. She was holding a flashlight, its beam cutting through the darkness like a searching eye. She wasn't smiling anymore. Her face was a mask of cold, industrial efficiency.
"She's not in her room," she muttered into a hidden comms device. "The subject is loose."
