Chapter 2 - THE JOB NOBODY WANTED
Claire actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because seventy-five thousand dollars sounded like the kind of number people used in scams.
“Say that again.”
“Seventy-five thousand for one month.”
Claire looked across her tiny Astoria kitchen at the hospital bill beside a bowl of cold noodles.
Her mother’s cancer treatment had wiped out every savings account they had.
Claire had maxed out two credit cards.
She had borrowed from friends.
She had stopped buying coffee, stopped taking cabs, stopped pretending she had a normal twenty-five-year-old life.
Still, the bills kept coming.
“What’s wrong with the family?” she asked.
Vivian Chase from Pembrook Domestic Staffing went quiet.
Claire knew that silence.
Rich families always had something wrong with them.
“Vivian.”
“The child is four.”
“And?”
“She witnessed a violent incident.”
Claire leaned back.
“How violent?”
“Her mother was killed.”
The humor disappeared.
“She hasn’t eaten or drunk voluntarily for four days.”
Claire stood.
“Then she needs a hospital.”
“She has a hospital in the penthouse.”
“What?”
“Doctors. Nurses. Equipment. Everything.”
Claire rubbed her forehead.
“Who are these people?”
Another pause.
Then Vivian said it.
“Gabriel Varrick.”
Claire stared at the wall.
Everyone knew the name.
Maybe not from indictments.
Those never stuck.
But New Yorkers knew.
Varrick Development.
Varrick Maritime.
Varrick Security.
And behind the clean logos, rumors.
Smuggling.
Extortion.
Bribery.
People disappearing.
“No.”
“Claire—”
“No chance.”
“Fifteen thousand for one week.”
Claire looked at the bill again.
God, she hated that piece of paper.
“Cash?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Immediately.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Her mother had another treatment scheduled Friday.
The insurance company had already delayed authorization twice.
“Do they know I’m not licensed?”
“They know everything.”
“That’s worse.”
“Probably.”
Claire grabbed her coat.
“What address?”
Twenty-nine minutes later, a black SUV stopped outside her building.
The driver said nothing.
The man in the passenger seat had a gun beneath his jacket.
Claire considered getting out twice.
Then she thought about her mother.
The penthouse was worse than she imagined.
Not because it was ugly.
Because it was beautiful in a way that felt guarded.
Armed men near the elevator.
Security cameras in every hallway.
Windows overlooking Manhattan.
Money everywhere.
Warmth nowhere.
Gabriel Varrick waited outside Lily’s room.
He looked Claire up and down.
“You’re the nanny?”
“I’m the woman they sent.”
“You look twelve.”
“I’m twenty-five.”
“That doesn’t help.”
Claire stared back.
“You look tired.”
One of the guards coughed to hide a laugh.
Gabriel didn’t smile.
“Why are you here?”
“Money.”
His eyebrow moved.
At least she thought it did.
“Not because you love children?”
“I haven’t met your child.”
“Not because you want to help?”
“I do want to help.”
“But?”
Claire looked at him.
“I need the money more.”
Something in Gabriel’s face softened for half a second.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I hate liars.”
He opened Lily’s bedroom door.
Claire saw the little girl.
And for the first time since entering the penthouse, she forgot about money.
Lily looked like she had already left the world.
Claire slowly lowered her bag.
Then Gabriel said, “If you make her worse, you leave immediately.”
Claire looked at him.
“If you keep threatening everyone who walks into this room, she may never get better.”
The hallway went dead quiet.
May you like
Gabriel took one slow step toward her.
And Claire realized nobody had warned her what happened when someone talked back to Gabriel Varrick.
