I had objected at first, but Alice insisted Stephen was just an old friend, someone who had helped her a lot in the past. She said we owed him and that turning him away would be ungrateful.
I trusted her completely and gave in to her unreasonable request.
Now, Alice stammered, claiming she didn’t know anything and needed to check before getting back to me.
Meanwhile, I kept trying to reach my daughter.
Not long after, Alice called back and said I was being paranoid. According to her, Carlos and Tatiana were just playing an escape room game with role-playing elements. What I saw earlier, she insisted, wasn’t real. Just part of the game.
But I trusted my own eyes far more than her excuses.
What I saw wasn’t some harmless prank; it was torment. My daughter’s fear was real, deep and unmistakable.
Then, Alice sent me another video. In it, Tatiana avoided the camera and spoke in a flat, robotic voice. “Daddy, I’m fine. Don’t worry. Today is my birthday and I had so much fun.”
That only fueled my anger. She was still wearing the same clothes from three years ago, the ones from the day I left home. The fabric was faded from too many washes, with several clumsy patches sewn in.
Her words were stiff, clearly rehearsed from a script.
I stayed calm. I told Alice the project still needed more time and asked her to keep things in order at home.
She let out a visible sigh of relief and readily agreed.
After hanging up, I told my assistant to arrange a private jet; I had to get home immediately.
I needed to see with my own eyes what my daughter had endured in the three years I’d been away.
In less than twenty minutes, the private jet was ready, with a flight path arranged just for me.
Two hours later, I landed and headed straight home.
But everything had changed. I couldn’t even get through the gate.
“Who are you? Trying to flirt with the lady of the house?”
“Get lost before Mr. Tucker loses his temper!”
Before I returned, I thought only my daughter had been bullied. I never imagined that my existence would even be wiped away.
Since when did Mr. Tucker become master of the house?
I asked coldly, “Don’t you know who I am?”
Not one familiar face stood in the yard.
Because of the classified nature of my work, I had carefully hired four housemaids and six bodyguards, all people with verified backgrounds.
Where had they gone?
“You better leave, or I’m calling the police.”
I sneered. “Then you report it.”