2025-04-23 22:38:32Gregory didn’t move.
The attic light buzzed faintly overhead, casting long, crooked shadows across the room. Marcus stood in the doorway, one hand behind his back, his mouth curled into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.
“What do you want?” Gregory asked, voice tight.
Marcus stepped forward slowly. “You’ve been busy.”
Gregory shifted slightly, keeping the envelope and burner phone hidden under the thin mattress. “If you’re here to threaten me, save it. I’ve had a long night.”
“Oh, I don’t need to threaten you.” Marcus pulled his hand from behind his back and revealed… a thick, folded folder.
He tossed it on the floor in front of Gregory.
“Recognize this?”
Gregory stared at it, not moving.
“I saw you in Dad’s office,” Marcus said casually, pacing. “You’re not as sneaky as you think. I was watching from the camera in the hallway. The one above the bookshelf.”
Gregory’s stomach turned. They'd been watching him even then.
“So what?” he replied. “You all knew I was more than a housekeeper.”
Marcus crouched down, eyes level with Gregory’s. “Yeah. We knew. But now you know too. That’s the problem.”
Gregory remained silent.
“You think Caldwell will just embrace you with open arms?” Marcus sneered. “You think a dying billionaire wants to hand his empire over to a glorified janitor who grew up in a roach-infested attic?”
“Truth doesn’t care where I grew up,” Gregory said.
Marcus smiled wider. “Maybe. But money does. Power does. Perception does.”
He stood up and stepped toward the door. “We were willing to let the DNA test play out. But now that you’re digging, meeting people in docks like some low-budget spy…”
Gregory stiffened.
So they had followed him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Marcus chuckled. “Don’t insult me. We saw you with Jalen.”
Gregory’s mind raced. If they knew Jalen helped me…
“Is he alive?” Gregory asked slowly.
Marcus gave a small shrug. “Hard to say. People disappear all the time.”
That hit like a gut punch.
Gregory clenched his fists under the mattress. He couldn't react. Not yet.
Marcus looked around the attic with a mixture of disgust and amusement. “You know what the best part is? If you disappear, no one will care. You’re not in any system. No friends. No family. No one to miss you.”
He turned to leave. “You’ve got two choices, Gregory. Back off. Stay quiet. Live out your days polishing silverware.”
He paused at the door.
“Or push this—and disappear like your friend.”
Then he was gone.
The door shut with a click.
And Gregory was left in silence.
The next morning was unbearable.
The Rosewell family acted like nothing had happened. Mr. Rosewell read the paper at breakfast. The daughters laughed in the parlor. Seth and Marcus lounged by the pool.
But every glance Gregory received was a silent threat.
Every smile—fake.
Every silence—dangerous.
Only Samuel seemed genuinely worried. He pulled Gregory aside near the garden after lunch.
“You look like you haven’t slept.”
Gregory didn’t lie. “I haven’t.”
Samuel looked around. “They’re up to something. Marcus has been in and out of Dad’s office all morning. I heard him mention a name—‘Jalen’—to one of his friends.”
Gregory nodded slowly. “I think they hurt him.”
Samuel swallowed. “You need to get out of here.”
“I can’t. Not yet. I have a chance to meet Caldwell. But I have to wait until tomorrow night. There’s a window—once it closes, it’s over.”
Samuel hesitated. “Then let me help you.”
Gregory blinked. “Why?”
Samuel looked away. “Because this family is poison. And you… you’ve always been decent to me. Even when the rest of them treated you like dirt.”
Gregory placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll need a distraction tomorrow night. Something to pull eyes off me.”
Samuel gave a small nod. “Consider it done.”
That night, Gregory didn’t sleep again.
He lay fully clothed, alert, ready. Every creak of the house made his pulse spike. Every footstep made him reach for the burner phone.
Then—a buzz.
A message.
Unknown Number:
They’re going to move on you before the window opens. Get out now. Trust no one.Gregory sat up fast.
He grabbed the file, burner phone, and slipped on his shoes.
He crept down the hallway, but halfway down the stairs—
Voices.
Below, in the living room.
“…tonight,” Seth was saying. “He’s got something. Marcus said he’s hiding files. If he gets out, we’re finished.”
Mr. Rosewell’s voice was low and deadly. “Then don’t let him leave.”
Gregory turned and bolted—up the stairs, through the servant’s corridor, out the side window onto the trellis, sliding down into the backyard.
He landed hard, rolled to his feet—and froze.
A black SUV sat parked in the alley behind the house.
Engine running.
Driver in the shadows.
As Gregory backed up slowly—
The car doors opened.
Two men stepped out.
Not security.
Not police.
Professionals.
The kind you didn’t run from—you didn’t survive from.
Gregory’s heart pounded.
He turned and ran, vanishing into the maze of neighboring backyards, one thought echoing in his mind:
They’re not going to wait until tomorrow.
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