Chapter 5 - The Trap Set
That night, Susan insisted on staying in the guest suite in the west wing.
"I want to be here to comfort the girls when the three o'clock attack happens," she had said with tears in her eyes during dinner.
At 2:45 a.m., the Hamptons mansion was silent.
In the nursery, Lily and Rose were sleeping peacefully in their canopy beds. The reassembled teddy bear sat on the nightstand between them, its red light blinking silently.
Outside the door, hidden behind the decorative wooden paneling of the hallway, a high-definition pinhole camera fed live video directly to a monitor in Rory’s basement command center.
Rory sat in front of the screens alongside Frank and Veronica.
At 2:52 a.m., a shadow moved in the west corridor.
The door to the guest suite opened quietly. Susan Thompson stepped out into the dark hallway, wearing a dark silk robe and slippers. She was holding a small, black handheld transmitter—a frequency controller designed to override the bear's internal timer.
She slipped down the corridor silently, stopping outside the nursery door.
She checked both directions, unaware of the night-vision camera recording her every movement from six inches above her head.
Susan raised the transmitter, pressing a button on the side to manually trigger the acoustic blast.
She waited against the wall, a cruel, satisfied smile touching her lips as she prepared to hear the children start screaming.
One minute passed.
Two minutes.
Inside the nursery, total silence reigned.
Susan frowned, looking down at her device. She tapped the screen frantically, boosting the signal gain to maximum power, pressing the trigger again and again.
Still, no screams.
Panicked, Susan quietly turned the brass door handle and slipped into the nursery.
She tiptoed toward the bed, reaching out her hand to grab the teddy bear off the nightstand to inspect the core.
The moment her fingers touched the plush fur, the bright overhead chandelier snapped on!
Blinding light flooded the room.
Susan gasped, dropping the transmitter onto the carpet.
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Rory Starks was sitting in a high-backed armchair in the corner of the room, fully dressed in a black suit, his arms crossed over his chest. Beside him stood Veronica, holding the torn-open original transmitter in her gloved hand.
"Looking for this, Susan?" Rory asked, his voice dripping with ice.
