Chapter 3 - Forty-Eight Hours
The hospital discharged Madison two days later with a stack of instructions, a prescription for pain, and a warning to return if her incision opened or her bleeding increased. Rowan remained in the neonatal unit because she tired during feedings and her oxygen levels dipped without warning.Ethan drove them home.He kept both hands on the steering wheel and the radio off.“You could have stayed at the hospital,” Madison said.“The nurses said she’s improving.”“They said she needs observation.”“You need a real bed.”“I need my daughter.”“You’re not the only one who gets to decide what she needs.”Madison turned toward the window. Their neighborhood passed in familiar pieces: the bakery with the striped awning, the elementary school, the maple tree that had fallen during the winter storm. She felt as if she had returned from a country where the rules were different.At home, the broken laundry window had been replaced. No glass remained on the floor. The house smelled of lemon cleaner.Ethan carried her bag upstairs.“I’ll sleep in the guest room,” he said.“You’ve been sleeping there.”“For your comfort.”“You left me locked in a room while I was bleeding.”“We’ve already discussed this.”“No. You’ve explained it. That isn’t the same thing.”He placed her bag beside the bed. “The smart system keeps activity for forty-eight hours. I’ll pull the logs for you.”Madison’s pulse quickened. “You know that?”“I designed the retention policy.”“Then pull them.”“After you rest.”“Now.”His smile was patient and bloodless. “You’re still escalating.”He left.Madison waited until she heard the guest-room door close. Then she opened the drawer of her desk and took out an old laptop. Ethan had given it to her when he replaced her newer computer, claiming the battery was unreliable. It was not connected to Nestor.She logged into the home account.The activity screen loaded slowly. At first, there were only routine events: thermostat adjustment, kitchen motion, garage closed. Then the morning of the emergency appeared.6:39:12 a.m. — Ethan Mercer — Front Door Locked.6:40:03 a.m. — Medical Safety Mode Initiated.6:40:07 a.m. — Fetal Monitor Disconnected.6:41:01 a.m. — Ethan Mercer — Front Door Locked.Madison held her breath.The duplicate entry had not appeared in Ethan’s screenshot.She kept scrolling.7:18:44 a.m. — Service Override — Front Door Unlocked.7:18:51 a.m. — Front Door Opened.7:22:19 a.m. — Front Door Closed.7:22:20 a.m. — Service Override — Front Door Locked.Madison’s hands began to shake.Calvin had never used the front door. He had broken the laundry window at approximately 7:23, according to the 911 transcript.Someone had unlocked the house before the ambulance arrived.Someone had entered.She took screenshots and saved them to the laptop. When she tried to download the original file, a warning appeared.Activity records older than forty-eight hours are automatically archived.The current time was 8:02 a.m. The entries would vanish in less than an hour.Madison plugged in a flash drive. The download began.Footsteps crossed the hall.She closed the laptop.Ethan stood in the doorway. “What are you doing?”“Looking for a charger.”“For the old computer?”“It was already here.”His gaze moved to the flash drive.“You should be in bed,” he said.“I’ve spent two days in bed.”“Your body has been through surgery.”“So has my daughter’s.”“Don’t use Rowan to justify hurting yourself.”She felt the words strike somewhere older than the pregnancy. Ethan had always been able to turn her concern into evidence against her. If she cried, she was unstable. If she stayed quiet, she was punishing him. If she remembered a contradiction, she was obsessive.“Did you unlock the door at 7:18?” she asked.His expression did not change.“What door?”“The front door.”“I told you the emergency responders came.”“They came through the laundry window.”“Maybe someone checked on you.”“Who?”“I don’t know.”“The log says service override.”He walked into the room. “Let me see.”“No.”“It’s my account.”“It’s my house too.”“Your name isn’t on the account.”“My money paid the first deposit.”“And I pay the mortgage.”“You used my name when you needed a public face for Nestor.”The flash drive light stopped blinking. The download completed.Ethan reached for the laptop.Madison pulled it against her stomach.“Don’t touch me.”For a moment, anger broke through his composure. “You have no idea what you’re accusing me of.”“Then explain the duplicate lock and the service override.”“A system glitch.”“Glitches don’t open doors.”“You’re not technically qualified to interpret the log.”“I’m qualified to read times.”He stared at her. “You want to make me the villain because you’re ashamed you couldn’t protect yourself.”Madison’s incision throbbed.“I was locked in,” she said. “The person who did that is the villain.”Ethan stepped closer. His phone buzzed. He looked down.The screen showed a new alert.ARCHIVE COMPLETE. LOCAL COPY CREATED.His eyes lifted to hers.The house had told him she had saved the evidence.
