Chapter 3 - My Mother’s Front Door
“Don’t answer it,” Luca said.
I answered.
“Tell your little story carefully,” Vanessa whispered.
“Who’s at my mother’s apartment?”
“A man making sure she’s comfortable.”
“Leave her alone.”
“Then stop trying to ruin my life.”
Luca held out his hand.
I gave him the phone.
“Vanessa.”
Silence.
“If anyone touches Hannah’s mother, you will spend the rest of your life explaining why.”
“You always did believe the help over me.”
“No. That was my mistake. I believed you.”
He ended the call.
Nico was already moving.
“Address?”
I told him.
Luca turned back toward the dining room.
“Where’s Frank?”
“The security office,” Nico said.
“Don’t tell him where you’re going.”
That scared me more than Vanessa’s call.
Frank Rinaldi had run security at the mansion since before I started. He knew every camera, every door, every employee’s address.
I called my mother.
“Mom, lock the deadbolt.”
“Hannah? What’s wrong?”
“Please. Right now.”
I heard the chain slide.
Then a man’s voice through her door.
“Mrs. Miller? Your daughter said it was urgent.”
My mother stopped breathing into the phone.
“Don’t speak to him,” I said. “Stay with me.”
Nico put his own phone on speaker as he drove.
Three minutes later, my mother whispered, “He’s trying the handle.”
I gripped the edge of the chair.
Dr. Shaw stayed beside me.
“Look at me, Hannah. Keep breathing.”
From the dining room came a raised voice.
Michael.
“Vanessa, call him off.”
Then hers.
“You think I’m the one you should be afraid of?”
A hard knock came through my mother’s phone.
“Mrs. Miller. Open up.”
“Police are coming,” I shouted, loud enough for him to hear.
The handle stopped.
Nico reached the building before the patrol car did.
I heard feet on the stairs, a brief exchange, then my mother saying his name to make sure I knew he was there.
“Nico?”
“Yes, Mom. Go with him.”
Twenty minutes later, she entered the library wearing her old blue coat over pajamas.
I stood despite the pain.
She touched my cheek.
“Who did this?”
“I’m okay.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
For the first time all evening, I cried without trying to hide it.
Luca waited until we sat down together.
Then he placed a small brass key on the table.
“Michael gave me this.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“A storage unit.”
My mother stared at the key.
May you like
Her hand tightened around mine.
“Hannah,” she said quietly, “I know that number.”
