The East Wing was silent, save for the hum of the central heating. Victoria lay awake in the massive four-poster bed, staring at the canopy. It was 3:00 AM.
Then, she heard it.
It started as a static crackle from the smart-home speakers embedded in the ceiling, followed by a melody. It was a lullaby–“Rock-a-bye Baby”–but played on a distorted, out-of-tune music box. It was quiet, just on the edge of hearing, drifting through the room like smoke.
*”…when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall…”*
Victoria sat up, her heart hammering. “Hello? Is someone there?”
The music continued, looping the same four bars. She scrambled out of bed, grabbing her robe, and ran into the hallway. She pounded on the door to William’s adjoining suite.
William opened it instantly, rubbing sleep from his eyes, wearing only silk pajama bottoms. “Victoria? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
“The music,” she gasped, pointing back at her room. “Someone is playing music over the speakers. It’s… it’s horrible.”
William frowned, instantly alert. He strode past her into her bedroom. He stood in the center of the room, tilting his head.
Silence. Absolute, heavy silence.
“I don’t hear anything, Victoria,” William said, turning to her.
“It stopped when you walked in!” she cried, moving to the wall panel to check the audio logs. “I swear, it was playing. A lullaby.”
William checked the digital log on the wall pad. *System Status: Idle. Last Activity: None.*
He looked at her. He saw her dilated pupils, her trembling hands, the way she clutched her stomach. He remembered the “collapse” at the studio and the doctor’s warning about stress.
“Victoria,” he said gently, reaching out to touch her arm. “You’ve been under immense pressure. The doctor said heightened cortisol can cause… sensory disturbances.”
“I am not hallucinating,” Victoria stepped back, her voice shaking. “I know what I heard.”
William looked at her with deep, furrowed concern. It wasn’t the look of a husband believing his wife; it was the look of a guardian watching his ward lose her grip on reality.
Miles away, in a penthouse apartment, Seraphina Rivers watched the live feed from the hacked security camera on her laptop. She took a sip of wine and typed a command: *Audio Loop: Randomize Interval.*
“Sweet dreams,” she whispered.