The watch had been photographed in place.
The key had a tiny strip of clear wax near its teeth that would crack if inserted into the lock.
He had wanted evidence.
Proof.
A clean reason not to trust her.
Instead, she had left every object untouched and somehow found the one thing he had not meant to expose.
Him.
Footsteps sounded from the stairwell.
Mrs.
Gordon appeared and stopped when she saw them together.
Her gaze dropped to the flower.
For the first time since Maya had arrived, the housekeeper lost her composure.
“Mr.
Penhaligon.”
Arthur did not look away from Maya.
“How many?”
Mrs.
Gordon hesitated.
“Sir?”
“How many of the eleven were given the key?”
Maya turned toward her.
Mrs.
Gordon’s face tightened.
“All of them.”
The answer changed the air.
Maya looked back at Arthur.
“Eleven?”
Arthur’s silence confirmed it.
Mrs.
Gordon stepped forward.
“Mr.
Penhaligon believed anyone working in the house needed to understand certain boundaries.”
“By being accused before they did anything?” Maya asked.
“Not all were accused.”
“What happened to them?”
Mrs.
Gordon glanced at Arthur, but he gave no instruction to stop.
“Three used the key.
Two opened the door before I reached them.
One took cash.
Others became angry when they learned they’d been tested.
Several resigned within days.”
“And the rest?”
Mrs.
Gordon’s voice softened.
“They said they could not work in a house where every mistake looked like betrayal.”
Maya looked at Arthur.
There it was.
The real reason the position never stayed filled.
The locked room had become more than a private boundary.
Arthur had turned it into a measurement of everyone who entered his home.
Curiosity meant disloyalty.
Carelessness meant danger.
Questions meant intrusion.
And eventually, everyone left.
Just as he expected.
