Chapter 1 - THE SCREAM BEHIND THE DOOR
Victor Blackwood knew something was wrong before he even opened the front door.
His six-month-old daughter was screaming upstairs.
Not crying.
Screaming.
Then he heard his eight-year-old son yell.
“STOP!”
Victor dropped his briefcase.
He ran.
His shoes slammed against the marble staircase as he took the steps two at a time.
“Ethan!”
Another crash came from the second floor.
Then silence.
The kind of silence that made a father’s blood turn cold.
Victor reached the east hallway and saw the nursery door standing open.
His son was lying on the marble floor.
Ethan’s face was white.
One arm was twisted underneath him.
His small body shook as he tried not to cry.
Beside him, baby Sophie screamed from her crib.
And standing over Ethan was Serena Montigue.
Victor’s fiancée.
The woman every magazine in Chicago had called elegant, graceful, and perfect.
She wore a cream silk dress.
Not one hair was out of place.
Victor stopped breathing.
“Ethan.”
The boy looked up.
“Dad.”
That one word came out broken.
Victor dropped beside him.
“Don’t move.”
“My arm hurts.”
“I know.”
Victor looked toward Serena.
“What happened?”
Serena rushed forward.
“Victor, thank God.”
He raised one hand.
“Stay there.”
Her steps stopped.
Something changed in her face.
Just for half a second.
Annoyance.
Then fear replaced it.
“It was an accident.”
Ethan whispered, “No.”
Serena looked down sharply.
Victor caught it.
“What do you mean, no?”
Ethan’s lips trembled.
Before he could answer, Serena spoke louder.
“He was running.”
“I told him not to run near the stairs.”
“He ignored me and slipped.”
A young woman stood near the wall.
Nora Hayes.
Sophie’s nanny.
Her eyes were swollen from crying.
“That’s not what happened.”
Serena spun toward her.
“Be quiet.”
Victor slowly stood.
“What did happen?”
Nora looked at Ethan.
Then at Victor.
“Mr. Blackwood, I was downstairs warming Sophie’s bottle.”
“Serena told Ethan to come into the nursery.”
“When I came back—”
“You weren’t even here,” Serena snapped.
Nora’s face flushed.
“I heard him scream.”
Serena laughed bitterly.
“And now you’re trying to save your job.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“Enough.”
The room went silent.
Victor called his security chief.
“Marcus.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Get Dr. Collins here now.”
“Already on the property, sir.”
“And lock the gates.”
Serena stared at him.
“Lock the gates?”
“Yes.”
“Victor, that’s ridiculous.”
“My son is injured inside my house.”
“Nobody leaves until I know why.”
Serena crossed her arms.
“You’re treating me like a suspect.”
Victor looked at Ethan.
The boy was staring at Serena with pure fear.
Victor had seen that expression before.
Not on his son.
On witnesses in courtrooms.
On executives about to confess.
On people afraid the wrong person might hear them speak.
Victor lowered his voice.
“Ethan.”
The boy looked at him.
“Did Serena hurt you?”
Serena stepped forward.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
Ethan flinched.
Victor saw it.
So did Nora.
Victor turned slowly.
“Back away from my son.”
Serena’s mouth fell open.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Back away.”
She did.
Dr. Collins arrived minutes later and examined Ethan.
“Possible fracture.”
Victor’s face hardened.
“We need an X-ray.”
As the doctor prepared a temporary sling, Ethan gripped Victor’s sleeve.
“Dad.”
“I’m here.”
“Don’t let her come with us.”
Victor felt something inside him break.
He looked at Serena again.
She had gone pale.
“Why would he say that?”
Serena shook her head.
“He’s confused.”
Ethan suddenly pointed toward the bookshelf.
“The little black thing.”
Everyone turned.
“What black thing?” Victor asked.
“My recorder.”
Victor remembered it.
He had bought Ethan a tiny digital recorder for his school history project.
Ethan had been interviewing staff members about the Blackwood mansion.
“Where is it?”
“Behind the books.”
Serena’s eyes widened.
Only slightly.
But Victor saw it.
Nora reached behind a row of children’s books.
Her fingers closed around a small black recorder.
A red light blinked on its side.
Still recording.
Victor held out his hand.
Serena stepped toward him.
“Victor, children play with those things.”
He looked at her.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
She stopped.
Victor pressed STOP.
Then PLAY.
Static filled the room.
A door closing.
Footsteps.
Then Serena’s voice.
Clear as glass.
“You’re going to stop telling your father things that happen in this house.”
Ethan’s frightened voice followed.
“I didn’t tell him anything.”
“You told him Sophie cried all night.”
“She did.”
“That made me look bad.”
“She’s a baby.”
A sharp slap echoed through the recorder.
Victor stopped breathing.
Ethan began crying beside him.
On the recording, Serena’s voice dropped into something Victor had never heard before.
Something cold.
“You think because you’re his son, you’re untouchable?”
Ethan whimpered.
“Please.”
Then came Serena’s answer.
“No one is untouchable.”
Victor stared at the woman he had planned to marry in six weeks.
Serena whispered, “Victor…”
The recording continued.
A scrape.
A frightened gasp.
Then Ethan screamed.
Victor’s hands curled into fists.
But before anyone could speak, another voice came from the doorway.
Old.
Shaking.
Terrified.
“Sir.”
Victor turned.
Martha Bell, the Blackwoods’ seventy-year-old housemaid, stood there clutching her apron.
Tears filled her eyes.
Victor had known Martha since childhood.
“Martha?”
She looked at Serena.
Then back at Victor.
“This wasn’t the first time.”
Serena went completely still.
Victor felt the room tilt beneath him.
“What did you say?”
Martha swallowed.
May you like
“I said this wasn’t the first time she hurt one of your children.”
And then Serena ran.
