Nikos had just lied to Darius Voulgaris. His boss. The man who could buy and sell small nations. And he’d done it for a four-year-old in a light-up superhero shoe. Darius peered past Nikos, his brow furrowed. “Faulty wiring? Here? I just had the entire smart-system overhauled.” “A new build, sir,” Nikos said, his voice smooth, though his heart was a frantic drum against his ribs. “Always a few gremlins. I’ve logged it for the tech team.” He offered a small, reassuring nod, then quickly stepped to the side, subtly blocking Darius’s line of sight to the closet door. Inside, Teo was now vigorously tapping the screen of the tablet, the game’s triumphant jingle a barely audible whisper. Zenia, pressed against the cool glass wall of the study, felt a faint tremor of relief. Nikos had bought them time. Darius’s gaze flickered from the storage cupboard back to Zenia, lingering on her for a beat too long, a question sharpening in his slate eyes. Before he could voice it, a high-pitched, insistent chime echoed through the villa. The grand front doors, programmed with their own melodic signature, announced a new arrival. Darius’s expression tightened further, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Helena. What in the blazes is she doing here?” A sharp, imperious voice cut through the air a moment later. “Darius! Are you going to keep an old woman waiting in your grand foyer, or will you offer some refreshment?” Helena Moras swept into the study like a gale-force wind, her silver hair coiled into an impeccable chignon, her tailored cobalt suit radiating an aura of polished steel. Her eyes, sharp as a peregrine’s, immediately fixed on Zenia. They raked over her, assessing, dismissing, then returning with a renewed, predatory glint. Helena didn’t just enter a room; she claimed it. “Aunt Helena,” Darius greeted, his tone clipped, though he quickly moved to offer a perfunctory kiss to her cheek. “A surprise. I wasn’t expecting you until the final presentation.” Helena waved a dismissive hand. “The Voulgaris legacy is not built on ‘expectations,’ dear boy. It’s built on vigilance. I decided a spot-check was in order. Especially with… new blood on the project.” Her gaze impaled Zenia. “And who is this?” “Zenia Calas, the lead architect,” Darius supplied, his voice flat. “She’s taking over Elian’s designs.” Helena’s thin lips pursed. “Elian always had a peculiar taste for… novelties.” She circled Zenia slowly, like a shark around its prey, her designer heels clicking rhythmically on the polished floor. “Calas, you say. A fresh face. Tell me, Miss Calas, your work here is quite… demanding, I imagine. Long hours. Solitary work, often late into the night. It must be difficult for a young woman of your… charms to maintain such a schedule without a man to distract you.” Zenia’s back stiffened. The implied insult grated. “My focus is entirely on this build, Mrs. Moras,” she replied, keeping her voice flat. Every instinct screamed at her to shrink, to disappear, but the thought of Teo, just feet away, kept her anchored. Helena chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Oh, I’m sure it is. But Veridia society is a small pond, Miss Calas. People talk. And it would be… unfortunate, for the Voulgaris name, if the new architect were to bring any… unsavory complications to the mansion. My nephew requires a certain level of… discretion. He is, after all, the last of our direct line.” Her voice dropped, a chilling undercurrent entering it. “And the Voulgaris line *must* continue, pure and unblemished. We cannot tolerate any… diversions.” Zenia’s stomach clenched. The intensity in Helena’s eyes was unnerving, a desperate, almost fanatical gleam. It wasn’t just about discretion; it was about something deeper, darker. A possessive grip on a legacy, born from a pain Zenia couldn't comprehend. She pictured Teo inside the storage nook, oblivious with his game. If Helena ever found him, she would strip Zenia of everything. “My personal life is not relevant to my professional duties,” Zenia stated, trying to keep her voice steady, despite the tremor in her hands. She felt Darius’s eyes on her, a curious, almost assessing weight. Helena leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper that still carried venom. “Oh, but it *is*, dear. Everything is. Especially when it concerns this family. The last time a Voulgaris was… distracted, by an outsider, by a dalliance, it ended in tragedy. A child, lost. Forever. I will not see that repeated. The Voulgaris blood is too precious to be diluted or jeopardized by… casual affections.” Her gaze flicked to Darius, then back to Zenia, a silent threat in her stare. “Aunt,” Darius interjected, his voice sharp, “Zenia’s architectural prowess is why she’s here, not her romantic entanglements, real or imagined. This isn’t a parlor meeting.” He gestured toward a glass briefing room framed in matte black steel. “If you wish to discuss the plans, we can step inside.” Helena gave Zenia one last piercing look, then marched into the glass cube. Two technicians who had been hovering near the entrance scrambled after her, gripping their tablets. Nikos stationed himself beside the door, scanning the corridor and exchanging a subtle glance with Zenia. Darius sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “My apologies for my aunt. She can be… intense.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Zenia. “But she does have a point. Maintaining focus here is paramount. This site is everything.” Zenia nodded, her temporary relief evaporating. Helena stood inside the glass enclosure, whose rear partition abutted the exact storage nook where Teo sat. What if he made a noise? What if Helena demanded to see the junction box? Inside the glass cubicle, Helena was already berating the technicians about airflow. “This installation is supposedly elite, yet I feel a draft,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “And this temperature! Positively arctic. Set it to twenty-four degrees immediately.” The technicians tapped frantically at their touchscreens. Zenia watched as one pointed toward the rear partition—the exact boundary of Teo’s corner. “The duct regulator for this quadrant sits directly behind this casing, Mrs. Moras.” Helena strode towards the wall, her hand reaching out. “Then let’s inspect this ‘array,’ shall we? I want to see the craftsmanship myself.” Panic seized Zenia. Teo was *right there*. He might be visible through a vent. She started to move, to create a diversion, but it was too late. The overhead fixtures flickered. A heavy hum rolled through the ceiling, followed by a sharp latching sound. The glass partition slid shut and sealed. Freezing air roared from the ceiling louvers, frosting the interior. Helena gasped, clutching her arms, her face turning a livid shade of purple. The engineers stared, bewildered, at their tablets, which were now displaying a cascade of error messages. The digital readout dropped to an impossible ‘-5°C.’ “What in blazes?” Helena shrieked, banging on the glass. “Open this door! It’s freezing!” Darius, startled, rushed to the door, trying the handle. It was locked solid. “The system must have glitched,” he muttered, pulling out his own tablet. “Nikos, unlock it!” Nikos, however, was already on his comms, a look of utter confusion on his face. “Sir, the network is rejecting my bypass. Every lock on that perimeter is frozen, and chilling feeds are stuck at maximum. It looks like an external lockout.” He glanced at Zenia, a dawning horror in his eyes. Zenia’s mind raced. Hostile takeover. Local subnet. Teo. Only Teo. He must have heard Helena getting too close, must have sensed the danger. Her four-year-old had just locked Darius Voulgaris’s formidable aunt in a high-tech icebox. The technicians inside hammered on their screens, breath fogging against the glass. “The terminal has completely locked us out, Mr. Voulgaris!” one shouted, voice muffled. “The manual release won't acknowledge our badges!” Zenia stepped past Darius. She knew Elian’s blueprints by heart, including the mechanical cutoffs he always hid behind decorative trim. “There’s a manual bypass,” she said, her tone level against the commotion. “Beneath the primary conduit, tucked behind a baseboard plate. It cuts the local current directly without touching code.” The trapped crew stared through the glass, desperation plain on their faces. Darius stepped closer. “You’re sure?” “Elian never trusted full automation,” Zenia answered, kneeling beside the base of the partition. Her fingers ran along a seam in the limestone veneer until a hidden latch released with a snap. A flap swung open to reveal mechanical relays and heavy copper switches. She flipped the master breaker. The gale from the ceiling grates died instantly. She turned the secondary toggle. The magnetic seals released, and the glass panel rolled back with a pneumatic hiss. Helena, shivering violently, practically tumbled out, her face a mask of fury, her blue lips trembling. “This is outrageous!” Helena sputtered, rubbing her rigid arms. “Sabotage! Someone tried to freeze me to death!” Her glare swept the technicians before fixing on Zenia, who still knelt beside the open hatch. Darius stared at Zenia, then at the open panel, then back at his aunt, his expression a mixture of disbelief and grudging admiration. The technicians exchanged dumbfounded looks, their prior condescension vanished. But that awe quickly vanished, replaced by a cold, hard suspicion. Darius’s gaze darted toward the storage cubby, then whipped back to Zenia. Her calm competence, her swift, precise action, it all felt too… convenient. Too deliberate. He took a menacing step towards her, his voice a low growl that vibrated with barely contained anger. “Who,” he demanded, his gaze pinning her, “are you hiding in my house?”

Smart House Trap