Chapter 3: The Missing Footage
The security room was located behind the library, hidden behind a dark wooden door most guests never noticed.
Julian insisted on checking the cameras immediately.
Lady Margaret objected at first, saying the staff quarters should be searched first, but the guests were already whispering. The locked door had changed the mood.
Accusing a maid was easy.
Explaining a locked room was not.
Julian, Lady Margaret, Vanessa, Mr. Collins, Emma, and two security guards entered the security room. The head of security, Mr. Blake, sat before a wall of monitors.
“Show us the second-floor hallway footage,” Julian ordered.
Mr. Blake typed quickly.
The screen showed the hallway outside Vanessa’s dressing room from earlier that evening.
At seven twenty-eight, Emma appeared carrying flowers.
At seven twenty-nine, she entered the room.
At seven thirty-one, she came out with the old vase.
Nothing in her hands except flowers and glass.
Emma exhaled shakily.
“Keep going,” Julian said.
The footage continued.
Vanessa entered at seven forty.
A makeup artist entered at seven forty-six and left at eight ten.
Then Vanessa left the room at eight twenty-two, wearing the ring.
Julian paused.
“She had the ring when she left.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“I took it off afterward when I went back upstairs.”
“Then show that part,” Lady Margaret snapped.
Mr. Blake moved the timeline forward.
At eight thirty-two, Vanessa walked back toward the room.
Then the screen went black.
A message appeared.
File unavailable.
Mr. Blake froze.
Julian leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”
Mr. Blake swallowed.
“It means that section of footage was deleted.”
No one spoke.
Emma stared at the black screen.
The exact moment that mattered was gone.
Lady Margaret turned slowly toward Mr. Blake.
“Who has access to delete security footage?”
Mr. Blake’s face turned pale.
“Only three people, madam. Myself, Mr. Julian, and you.”
A heavy silence filled the room.
Vanessa looked quickly at Lady Margaret.
Julian looked at his mother.
Lady Margaret’s voice became dangerously calm.
“Are you suggesting I deleted it?”
“No, madam,” Mr. Blake said quickly. “Of course not.”
Emma noticed something.
Mr. Blake’s hands were shaking.
Not a little.
A lot.
Julian noticed too.
“Blake,” he said, “when was it deleted?”
Mr. Blake typed again.
“The system log says eight thirty-seven.”
Julian frowned.
“At eight thirty-seven, Mother was in the ballroom giving a toast. I was beside her. Blake, where were you?”
“In the security office, sir.”
“Alone?”
Mr. Blake did not answer quickly enough.
Mr. Collins stepped forward.
“I was in the west corridor at that time,” he said. “I saw Miss Vanessa near the old service staircase.”
Vanessa’s eyes flashed.
“That is ridiculous.”
Julian turned to her. “Why were you near the service staircase?”
“I wasn’t.”
Mr. Collins bowed his head slightly.
“I am old, miss, but not blind.”
Lady Margaret’s face hardened.
“Collins, be careful.”
But Emma could no longer remain silent.
“The service staircase leads behind the dressing room,” she said softly.
Everyone turned to her.
She regretted speaking, but it was true. The mansion had old servant passages built behind several rooms, from a time when wealthy families wanted help nearby but invisible.
Lady Margaret narrowed her eyes.
“How do you know that?”
“I clean those passages every Monday.”
Julian looked at Mr. Collins.
“Can someone enter the dressing room through there?”
Mr. Collins hesitated.
“There is an old panel behind the wardrobe. It was sealed years ago.”
“Sealed,” Emma repeated, remembering something.
When she changed the flowers earlier, she had heard a faint tapping sound behind the wardrobe. She thought it was pipes in the wall.
Now she was not sure.
Julian’s expression changed.
“We’re checking that room.”
Vanessa grabbed his arm.
“Julian, this is humiliating. Are you really going to treat me like a suspect because of a maid?”
He looked at her hand on his sleeve.
Then he looked at Emma, whose belongings were still scattered on the living room table.
“I should have checked before anyone accused her,” he said quietly.
For the first time that night, Emma saw regret in his eyes.
May you like
But regret would not clear her name.
Only the truth could.
