Christina could only find one desk lamp. She grabbed the lamp and hid in the closet.

The footsteps outside the door were soft, but they were clear in the dead of night, and Christina gripped the lamp tightly and stared out quietly.

She could tell that the footsteps were not his.

Christina hoped that she was being paranoid. Perhaps the maid had opened the wrong room.

But her hope was not fulfilled. She heard the man's footsteps and his messy search for something in the room.

A dark shadow blocked the faint moonlight in front of her, and Christina tensed and slowed her breathing, turning the lamp in her hand...