Chapter 6: The Enemy Inside the House
I didn’t tell Ethan about the second message immediately.
That was my first mistake.
I told myself I needed time.
I told myself I needed to understand who was behind it.
But the truth was simpler.
I was afraid.
Not of the person threatening me.
I had faced worse.
I was afraid because, for the first time in years, someone else could get hurt because of me.
Ethan.
That was something I couldn’t allow.
The next morning, I returned to work like nothing happened.
Gray uniform.
Tied hair.
Quiet footsteps.
The same Naomi everyone knew.
Except now I noticed everything.
The new guard near the east entrance.
The staff member avoiding eye contact.
The missing vase from the hallway.
Small details.
Tiny changes.
Things most people ignored.
Things that told a story.
At breakfast, Ethan found me setting the table.
“You’re avoiding me.””
I kept arranging plates.
“I’m working.””
“That’s not an answer.””
I looked up.
“Then ask a better question.””
His jaw tightened.
“Who sent the message?””
I froze.
He knew.
Of course he knew.
“You checked my phone?””
“No.””
“Then how?””
“Because you stopped blinking.””
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“You notice too much.””
“I learned from you.””
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I lowered my voice.
“It could be anyone.””
“No.””
Ethan shook his head.
“It can’t.””
“Why?””
“Because whoever sent it knew your private number.””
That was true.
Only a few people had it.
People from my old life.
People I trusted.
Or thought I trusted.
A sudden crash came from the hallway.
We both turned.
A glass fell from a maid’s tray.
The young woman apologized quickly.
But I noticed something.
Her hands were shaking.
Not because of the broken glass.
Because she saw me.
Her name was Lily.
She had worked at Whitmore House for three years.
And she looked terrified.
I followed her into the kitchen.
“Lily.””
She stopped.
“Yes?””
“You know something.””
Her face went pale.
“I don’t.””
“You do.””
She looked toward the door.
Then whispered:
“You need to leave.””
My stomach tightened.
“Why?””
She swallowed.
“Because Vanessa wasn’t acting alone.””
I stayed silent.
Lily looked like she wanted to say more.
Then footsteps approached.
She immediately stepped back.
The fear returned to her face.
“Forget I said anything.””
She walked away.
A minute later, Ethan entered.
“What happened?””
I looked at the kitchen door.
“Someone inside this house is scared.””
Before he could answer, Marcus rushed in.
“Mr. Whitmore.””
Ethan turned.
“What?””
“We found something in Vanessa’s room.””
“What?””
Marcus handed him an envelope.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Ethan read it.
His face changed.
I took the paper.
Three words were written across it.
*Ask Naomi’s brother.*
My heart stopped.
I hadn’t heard that name in eight years.
My brother.
Daniel.
The only person who knew the truth about Philadelphia.
The only person who disappeared after that night.
I looked at Ethan.
“I don’t have a brother.””
The room went silent.
Marcus frowned.
“But the note says—”
“I said…”
My voice became colder.
“I don’t have a brother.””
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone stared.
I answered.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then a man’s voice came through.
A voice I hadn’t heard in eight years.
A voice I thought was dead.
“Naomi.””
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Daniel?””
A pause.
Then:
“You need to get out of Whitmore House before they find out what you really are.””
The call ended.
And Ethan looked at me like he finally understood.
I had been hiding a secret.
But it wasn’t the kind anyone expected.
May you like
I wasn’t just someone who survived Philadelphia.
I was someone who knew why it happened.
