Daniel Carter sat alone inside the mansion security room, surrounded by dozens of camera screens.
He had installed the system after his son Noah came home from the hospital.
Noah was seven years old and still recovering from an accident that had left him dependent on a wheelchair.
Daniel hated leaving him alone.
But work had become impossible to avoid.
That afternoon, Daniel glanced at one of the bedroom cameras.
Then he froze.
Noah was on the floor.
His wheelchair stood several feet behind him.
Daniel immediately leaned toward the screen.
Noah was not crying.
He was moving slowly across the carpet.
Using his elbows and knees, he dragged himself toward a wooden toy sailboat lying near the edge of the rug.
Daniel’s face tightened.
Where was Rachel?
Rachel was the private nanny and physical therapy assistant Daniel had hired to stay with Noah whenever he worked.
Daniel switched cameras.
Kitchen.
Empty.
Hallway.
Empty.
Living room.
Empty.
Then he heard Noah’s voice through the monitor.
I can do it.
Daniel stared at the screen.
Noah reached the sailboat.
He smiled.
Then a blonde woman suddenly entered the room.
Rachel.
She knelt beside Noah.
Daniel expected her to lift him immediately.
Instead, she smiled.
You did it.
Daniel stood from his chair.
What the hell is going on?
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