"Sir?"
I snapped my head up. Marcus, my head of security, was standing in the doorway of the monitoring room. He was a former Marine, a mountain of a man who rarely showed emotion, but right now, his jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek. He had been watching the feeds with me.
"Lock the house down," I said, my voice sounding like gravel. It didn't feel like my own voice. It felt like the voice of a stranger who had just woken up in the middle of a war zone. "No one leaves. No one enters without my explicit authorization."
"Already done, sir," Marcus replied softly. "Do you want me to escort her off the property?"
I looked back at the monitors. Patricia had moved to the kitchen. She was pouring herself a glass of expensive chilled wine, casually tapping her perfectly manicured nails against the marble countertop as she pulled out her phone. She looked relaxed. Victorious. She thought she had total control.