You watched in silence, p.1
You Watched in Silence, page 1
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“Bewitching: a dark-hearted, full-blooded thriller, the sort of potent potion Riley Sager and Stacy Willingham might brew…You might watch in silence, but you’ll do it through your fingers.”
—A. J. FINN,
#1 New York Times bestselling author of The Woman in the Window
“H. Lee Justine has crafted a deliciously eerie Pacific Northwest gothic, bringing together the isolated setting, tumultuous family, and tantalizing glimpses of the supernatural with the fraught world of family influencers. A gripping story of guilt, grief, and buried secrets—I loved it.”
—KATE ALICE MARSHALL,
USA Today bestselling author of What Lies in the Woods and No One Can Know
“An atmospheric page-turner that explores the toxic underbelly of mommy-bloggers, online bullying, obsession, and revenge. Perfect for readers who like their thrillers pitch dark, with a touch of horror and the occult.”
—ROBYN HARDING,
internationally bestselling author of The Drowning Woman
“A taut labyrinth that explores the dark side of human nature and the secrets that can hide behind the perfection of social media. Eerie and calculating, in the best possible way.”
—A. R. TORRE,
New York Times bestselling author of The Good Lie
“You Watched in Silence is influencer culture as gothic horror. This brilliant debut is Luckiest Girl Alive meets Verity—a biting satire and a haunting fever dream.”
—MARY DIXIE CARTER,
author of Marguerite by the Lake and The Photographer
“Tenderly romantic and devastating, lusciously bone-chilling in its creeping atmospheric dread. You Watched in Silence lured me deep into its shadowy rain-damp woods.”
—ANGELA MI YOUNG HUR,
author of Folklorn
“A twisty, interesting path…and Caitlyn’s strength and vulnerability are very relatable…A romance sweetens up the dark commentary on influencer culture.”
—KIRKUS REVIEWS
YOU WATCHED IN SILENCE
H. LEE JUSTINE
Copyright © 2025 by H. Lee Justine
E-book published in 2025 by Blackstone Publishing
Cover design by Alenka Linaschke
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Trade e-book ISBN 979-8-228-00355-2
Library e-book ISBN 979-8-228-00354-5
Fiction / Horror
Blackstone Publishing
31 Mistletoe Rd.
Ashland, OR 97520
www.BlackstonePublishing.com
If you were my Destiny, in every sense of the word, then I was destined to meet you and destined to lose you.
That’s why I don’t believe in fate.
But I believed in you.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Perfect blond hair obscures her face, curling forward despite her backward motion. And that about sums her up, actually. A walking contradiction. Accessible, but out of reach. Insecure with a radiant smile. Shunned and craving validation.
Hands reach forward but grab nothing. Falling is rarely ever a choice, but this was. A series of decisions led to this outcome. It was preventable. But now, there is no evading gravity. Gravity will always be honest, regardless of the lies you try to feed it.
The dying screech reverberates off the rocky ocean cliffs, and rings in my own ears as an echo. The only ears that will ever hear it. There’s nobody else around. I am the sole viewer of her last moments.
In a world where all it takes to find millions of eyes is to click an ‘upload’ button, where you can record yourself doing something as mundane as a choreographed dance and garner an audience, it doesn’t make sense that I’m the only person that bears witness to this. This is the moment, the last moment, doesn’t that deserve an audience?
There is a smack against the water, a crunching of bones on stone. It takes only a few seconds for the light of her soul to be extinguished. It’s not even the length of a decent TikTok post.
I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, knowing it isn’t possible to scroll away from this.
The old copper doorknob cools my chapped fingertips as I bang it against the door. I’d already looked for a doorbell, but there isn’t one, which feels incongruent with the homeowner. Every corner of her old house was archived among her thousands of vlogs, but she has no camera doorbell outside her new home?
At least without the Ring camera, the house maintains its old-world Victorian charm. But what does it look like inside? Because if there is one thing that Bella Greene is not, it’s old world.
I am expecting a grand entrance befitting the glamour of Bella Greene. The door will whip open with a spotlight, expel a red carpet before me. Instead, it opens unceremoniously, and Bella appears so quickly that it’s hard to conceptualize that she is standing here, in the flesh, just a few feet from me.
Her face is so familiar, as though I’ve welcomed her into my home every week for the past decade, because I have. She looks just like she does in all her videos. Well, all right, her skin has a few more wrinkles, but what influencer doesn’t use smoothing filters these days? Other than that, though, she doesn’t feel too out of place. Except for the fact that her sun-kissed complexion is rarely found in this part of the country.
“Caitlyn, it’s so good to meet you!” Bella’s arms envelope me. “Or, rather, so good to meet you again!”
The memory of our first meeting is still fresh in my mind. I went to Bella’s stand-up comedy show, Under the Impression, just a few months after re-connecting with my best friend from elementary school. Her mom got us meet-and-greet tickets for her birthday and I can honestly say it was one of the best nights of my life.
Thirteen-year-old me would’ve been shocked to learn that one day, I’d be Bella Greene’s nanny. Bella wasn’t even a mother yet at that first show. She thrived on YouTube as a comedienne, but in more recent years followed the family vlogging track to success. YouTube sketches have long fallen out of style.
Awkwardly, I return Bella’s embrace, arms like flailing octopus tentacles. I’ve never known where to put my hands when people hug me like this. And what’s the appropriate amount of time until I should pull away? Obviously, I don’t want to offend Bella, but I don’t want to come off as a crazed fan either, hanging on for dear life.
Bella pulls away first, thankfully. “I’m really so glad you’re here. I’ve been on my own with these kids for two weeks now.” Bella pauses, realizing her own words. “Not that I don’t love spending time with them, of course. It’s just been hard to get my work done.”
What work does she have to do now? Maybe it’s better not to ask. I really want to make sure I don’t offend her.
“Well, I’m certainly happy to help.” My words are stilted, coming out unnaturally formal. Even though I’ve been officially offered the job, I still fear that the wrong word will get me sent packing.
“Here, let me help you with your bags.” Bella reaches for my forest green suitcase.
“It’s totally fine, I got it,” I say, a little too late. Her hands are already on the handle.
I don’t want her to carry it for a few reasons. The first being that it’s a little worn in the corners, embarrassing pieces of frayed fabric reveal themselves not far from the handle. But the other is simply a sense that Bella Greene should not be touching my luggage. She’s Bella Green. She doesn’t even carry her own luggage.
“Don’t worry about it! I’m only going to bring it into the vestibule, anyway.”
Vestibule? I thought I knew all the fancy words rich people use to describe their houses. But I don’t have a clue what a vestibule is.
Context clues give it away, though. Bella only moves my suitcase a few feet past the front door. Then behind her is another front door, which she opens without grabbing the luggage again. So, this tiny room with the herringbone red brick floor must be a vestibule.
“Come on, let’s chat in the kitchen, it’s just off to the right here,” Bella explains, and I shut the second front door behind me. I wonder if they share the same lock, but it’d be weird to ask. I’m sure I’ll get the keys to the house, anyway.
I ru
It’s a far cry from the pristinely white kitchen of her old home, where pearl cabinets and granite met a gray wood floor. The only pop of color came from a plum kitchen aid that sat near the fridge, not that anyone would know it was a fridge, as it’d been paneled to look like another set of cabinets. I’ve seen her pull ingredients out of it dozens of times, though. I can map out that kitchen, the entire house, in my mind. Both homes are beautiful in their own right, just wildly different from one another.
“I never would’ve guessed a place like this would be your taste.” The wooden barstool squeals in protest as I pull it out from the emerald countertop to take a seat.
“Oh, you’re so right. But this is the style out here on the island. There weren’t many places to pick from and certainly nothing modern.” A quick shake of her head shifts the bangs that usually sit perfectly aligned in her vlogs. “Wait until you see the yard, though! You can walk straight down to the beach.”
I run a finger over a thin glass vase hosting small, wispy purple flowers. I don’t remember Bella ever having florals in her previous home. “It sounds lovely. Do you plan to renovate this place?”
“God, no.” Sarcastic laughter punctuates her response like sardonic little commas between each word. “I could never live here full time. Once this all blows over, I’ll move back to LA. And I hope that’s sooner than later.” Bella’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh, shoot, I shouldn’t be talking like this yet. You know, before we go over the job any further, I’m going to send you to the study. My assistant has some NDAs for you. It’s all standard procedure with me. Can never be too careful, especially after . . . what happened.”
Ah, so is that how we’d be referring to it? I wasn’t sure. On the trip here, I’d wondered. Should I mention it? Stay quiet and pretend it never happened? But this clarifies things. I can broach the subject, but only in vague terms.
“Right. Of course. I completely understand.” I’d done a bit of reading online prior to my arrival from other nannies who worked with celebrity clients. There’s a subreddit for everything these days. None of the nannies could ever name their clients, however, due to strict NDAs. It obviously followed that I’d be signing one myself.
“Just down the hall and to your left. When you’re done, I’ll introduce you to the twins.”
Should I pretend I don’t know who Adam is when I walk in? I only have as many steps as it takes to get to the door to decide. Bella has surely told him I’m a superfan, and what fan isn’t familiar with Bella’s assistant? Still, there’s an awkwardness in knowing someone before they know you.
The study door creaks open slowly at my touch, groaning as though it too can sense the tension of my presence. At a long ornate table sits Adam, head faced down toward a stack of papers. He doesn’t need to look up at me to be recognizable. For years, he’s been wearing the same flawless braids that end right at the bottom of his neck, not so much as a hair out of place. Adam wasn’t in every video Bella posted, but she often involved him whenever she was doing trending challenges, like taste tests or TikTok dances.
“Uh, Bella told me to—” The words trip over each other on my tongue. “She said to come here. I mean, to see you.”
“Caitlyn, hello. Nice to finally meet you. I’m Adam.” His gentle smile could pacify even a screaming toddler. “A little nervous?”
I force my own smile, the sensation so foreign that my cheek muscles sit taut at the corners of my mouth. Is it obvious I’ve spent the last few months frowning?
If it is, then levity needs to come from my words instead of my expression. “When I had my first day at Baskin Robbins, I dropped a little girl’s rocky road cone on the floor, and she burst into tears. And when I did that, my boss wasn’t my idol.”
This earns me a small, polite laugh. “I get it. I felt the same way when I first started. Here, have a seat.” He points to the chair across from him.
“Were you a fan before you started working for Bella?” A question I already know the answer to.
“Oh, the biggest fan. I went to every show I could. Had my locker decked out in Bella’s photos. I mean, I got bullied a fair amount for it, but I made friends with other fans. You must’ve done the same, right? Bella said you came from her Twitter group chat?”
I hold my hand up, give a little shake of my head. “I’m sorry. I just have to process that Bella Greene has spoken about me.”
“And very highly, too! She said she met you and your friends at several of the Seattle meet and greets.”
My lips tighten. Not what I want them to do, but they have no choice. The only alternative is for emotion to spill onto my mouth, create a puddle on the rest of my face. “Yes.”
“I’m sure they’re all very jealous about your new position?”
A long pause. “Yep.”
An even longer silence follows, Adam’s eyes searching my expression to see what he said wrong. But he isn’t going to be able to figure it out. If there is one thing I’ve practiced endlessly, it’s shutting off the faucet on my rushing emotions. The water still drips slowly sometimes, but I’m always able to dry it before anyone notices.
Adam clears his throat as he shifts the stack of papers in front of me. “Is that how you spell your name? C-a-i-t-l-y-n D-a-v-i-s.”
“That’s right. Do you need my ID or social or anything?”
“No, nothing like that. This is all just nondisclosure agreements. Bella won’t report your income, which is great because you don’t have to pay taxes on it. So, we don’t have any paperwork to file in that regard.”
“Oh, great. But, uh, so . . . all these papers are just part of the NDA?”
“I know. It’s thorough. Feel free to read them slowly.”
If I do that, I’ll be in this room all day. And Bella might think I don’t trust her. “Can I just sign them?”
“Yeah, of course. Honestly, all you really need to know is that you’re not allowed to talk about Bella in any capacity. You can’t discuss your time here; you can’t use her as a future job reference. Absolutely anything to do with Bella is off limits. The NDA doesn’t expire.”
“Right. Okay. Got it.” I could be signing my life away. My parents made sure to instill in me the responsibility of my signature from a young age.
‘Never sign anything you haven’t read three times,’ my mom would say. But what’s the alternative? Not working for Bella Greene? No, that isn’t an option. One wrong move could wreck this. There are hundreds of eager fans who would gladly move to Washington to work for Bella, even after everything that happened. I’d mostly gotten the job based on proximity. When Bella messaged about the position, I was the only person in the group chat already living in Washington.
“Everywhere you see a yellow tab, you sign.” Adam’s fingertip brushes against the stack of papers.
“So,” I begin as I pick up the black pen closest to his hand, “any advice for me? Anything I can do to make sure I succeed here?”
“Oh, it’s not hard. Bella really is as sweet as she seems. I mean, obviously she’s struggling a bit right now. But even with all that, she’s keeping a brave face.”
There it is again, only being spoken about in vague terms. That seals the deal. Can’t be too specific. But I probably should pry what I can from Adam while I have the chance.
