The brass handle of Lily’s bedroom door rotated a full forty-five degrees.

The door creaked open, throwing a shaft of yellow light across the carpet.

Vanessa walked into the room.

She was wearing a silk robe, her dark hair pulled back in a loose clip.

In her hand, she held a glass of water.

Lily pressed her back harder against the wooden headboard, her small shoulders shaking.

Vanessa did not look at her with warmth or even casual annoyance.

Her expression was entirely blank, the face of a handler inspecting a piece of property.

I tapped my earpiece, desperate to boost the volume on the pinhole camera’s microphone.

A low hum vibrated in my ear, followed by the soft rustle of Vanessa’s slippers on the rug.

“Still awake,” Vanessa said.

Her voice was flat, devoid of any maternal tone.

Lily did not move, her eyes fixed on the glass in Vanessa’s hand.

Vanessa set the glass down on the nightstand with a sharp click.

“You need to sleep,” Vanessa said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”