Chapter 3 Don't Touch Anything

Adrian Pov

The house told me she was awake before I heard her.

A soft ping on my phone. Motion in the upstairs hall. Camera three, angle B. The feed showed Vicky stepping out barefoot, hair messy, shoulders squared like she was walking into a fight instead of a hallway.

Most people acted small in this house. They lowered their voices without knowing why. They followed the rules because the walls made them want to.

She didn't.

I watched her pause under the dome camera and look straight up at it, not flinching. Like she could intimidate a lens. Like being watched was an insult she could refuse.

Marissa's voice floated from downstairs, bright and rehearsed. She was already in the kitchen, performing comfort. Making this place feel like a home by force of will.

It wouldn't work on Vicky.

Vicky would test every edge until she found the blade.

I set my phone down, face up this time, and walked to the base of the stairs. I didn't call her name. I didn't need to. The camera did that for me-another ping as she moved.

She came down slow, one hand trailing along the banister like she was measuring the house with touch. She wore a plain shirt and shorts, no makeup, no jewelry. Still, she looked like a complication.

"Morning," Marissa said, too cheerful. "Coffee?"

Vicky's eyes flicked to the counter, to my phone, to the corners of the ceiling. Always scanning. Always counting.

"Sure," she said. "If it's not tracked."

Marissa laughed like it was funny. Like it wasn't a warning.

I kept my voice even. "Everything's tracked."

Vicky's gaze snapped to mine. "That supposed to make me feel safe?"

"It's supposed to make you behave," I thought, but I didn't say it.

I didn't say most things. Saying them made them real. Saying them gave people something to fight.

Instead I crossed to the cabinet, pulled out a mug, and poured coffee like we were a normal family standing in a normal kitchen.

Marissa watched me like she was watching a man she'd won.

Vicky watched me like she was watching a man she hadn't decided how to survive yet.

"House rules," Marissa said, sliding into the space between us without touching either of us. "We're going to keep things calm, okay? No drama. No... tension."

"Rules," Vicky repeated, like the word tasted bad.

I set the mug down in front of her. "You can call them boundaries."

She didn't pick it up. "Boundaries are mutual."

"They can be," I said. "Not always."

Marissa cleared her throat. "Adrian's just particular, honey. It's his work. Security stuff. You know how it is."

Vicky's eyes narrowed. "No, I don't. Because you're both acting like I'm supposed to accept living in a surveillance museum."

Marissa's smile tightened. "Vicky."

I didn't look at Marissa. I kept my focus on Vicky. The mistake people made with her was trying to soften her. It only sharpened her.

"You want the rules?" I asked. "Fine."

I lifted my phone and tapped once. A chime echoed from the ceiling speaker. Quiet. Clean. Immediate.

Vicky flinched, just a fraction. She covered it fast.

"Breakfast at eight. Dinner at seven," I said. "If you're out, you tell Marissa. Not because she's your keeper. Because this house runs on routine."

Vicky finally picked up the mug. She didn't drink. She held it like an object she might throw.

"And the west hall stays locked," I continued.

Her eyes cut to the hallway, exactly where I knew they would. The keypad door. The blank wall. The part of the house that didn't belong to anyone but me.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it's restricted."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

Marissa stepped in quickly, voice soft. "It's his office wing. He has sensitive calls. He's not hiding bodies, Vicky."

Vicky's mouth twitched. "That's comforting."

I watched her posture, the slight lean of her shoulders, the way her attention kept drifting toward the hall like a magnet. Curiosity wasn't her flaw. Pride was. She hated being told no.

So I gave her a different no.

"No wandering after midnight," I said.

She laughed once, short and sharp. "You're serious."

"I'm serious."

"Why?"

I held her gaze. "Because the system switches modes."

Marissa blinked. "Modes?"

I let that hang for a second too long. A controlled mistake. Something for Vicky to obsess over later.

"It's automated," I said. "Night protocols. Doors lock. Sensors tighten. If you trigger something, alarms go off."

Vicky's eyes flashed. "So if I get up for water, I set off your little fortress?"

"If you follow the paths you're supposed to follow, no."

"And if I don't?"

I gave her the truth, trimmed down to something she could swallow. "Then you'll wake the whole house."

Marissa laughed again, trying to lighten it. "He's just being dramatic. It's for safety."

Vicky turned to her. "Safety from what?"

Marissa's smile faltered. For the first time, she looked at me like she wasn't sure what I'd say.

I didn't give her an answer. I didn't give Vicky one either.

Silence was its own rule.

Vicky set the mug down without drinking. "Fine. Any other commandments?"

"Yes," I said. "Don't touch the panels."

She frowned. "What panels?"

"The wall controls. The camera controls. Anything that looks like it runs the house."

"I wouldn't know where to find them," she said, and the lie was too clean.

I watched her carefully. "Good."

Marissa clapped her hands like she was ending a meeting. "Okay! Let's make this a good day. Vicky, why don't you unpack? I'll show you where the laundry room is. Adrian has calls."

Vicky's eyes flicked to me again, quick and hot, like she hated that she'd noticed my voice before my face.

Then she turned away.

I should've let her go.

Instead I followed her into the hall.

Not close. Not touching. Just near enough that she'd feel the weight of me behind her.

She stopped at the base of the stairs and looked back. "You always hover?"

"I always verify," I said.

Her jaw tightened. "I'm not a threat."

I didn't answer, because we both knew that wasn't true.

She moved up the stairs again. The camera in the corner tracked her automatically, smooth as a predator's head turning.

She noticed. Of course she did.

She paused under it and looked up, eyes sharp. Then she looked down at me, like she was daring me to admit it.