Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE OF SECRETS
Blackthorne House sat above the Hudson like it had been built to survive a war.
Stone walls.
Steel gates.
Armed guards.
Cameras covering every entrance.
Mara studied all of it through the car window on her first morning.
The driver glanced at her in the mirror.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“You should be.”
He smiled.
Mara didn’t.
Inside the mansion, Mrs. Bell greeted her with the warmth of a tax audit.
The head housekeeper was sixty-two, thin as a blade, and wore her gray hair in a bun tight enough to hurt just looking at it.
“Your name?”
“Mara Ellis.”
“Experience?”
“Hotels. Private homes.”
“Ever worked for anyone important?”
“No.”
That was her first lie of the day.
Mrs. Bell walked around her.
“No stealing. No gossip. No questions.”
“I understand.”
“You do not enter Mr. Mercer’s office.”
“Of course.”
“You do not discuss his visitors.”
“Understood.”
“And you stay away from his son unless your work requires otherwise.”
Mara looked up.
Mrs. Bell’s eyes sharpened.
“Problem?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She handed Mara a uniform.
“Then become invisible.”
Mara almost smiled.
That part, she knew how to do.
For two weeks, she worked quietly.
She cleaned guest rooms where politicians slept.
She polished tables where criminals made business deals.
She carried drinks past men who had probably ordered murders between lunch and dinner.
And then there was Dominic Mercer.
He rarely spoke to staff.
He never needed to.
When he walked into a room, conversations stopped.
He was forty-one, tall, broad through the shoulders, with black hair and pale gray eyes that seemed to measure everyone in seconds.
One night, Mara was clearing glasses from the library when two men argued outside.
“You promised the shipment by Friday.”
“I said I’d try.”
“Dominic doesn’t pay people to try.”
Silence followed.
Mara kept cleaning.
The door opened.
Dominic stepped inside.
He looked at the two men.
“Leave.”
They left immediately.
Then Dominic’s gaze shifted to Mara.
“You heard that?”
She kept her eyes lowered.
“Heard what?”
His mouth almost moved.
Almost.
“Good answer.”
He walked away.
Mara released the breath she had been holding.
A week later, she found Caleb behind a curtain.
He was sitting on the floor with his knees pulled against his chest.
She stopped.
“You hiding?”
He nodded.
“From who?”
“Everybody.”
“That’s a lot of people.”
“My tutor says I have to practice piano.”
“You don’t like piano?”
“I hate piano.”
“Strong opinion.”
Caleb looked at her seriously.
“Do you hate piano?”
“No.”
“Then you play.”
“I’m working.”
“Please?”
Mara should have called the nanny.
Instead, she sat at the piano.
“What do you want to hear?”
Caleb climbed onto the bench beside her.
“Something happy.”
Mara played a simple melody her mother used to hum.
Halfway through, Caleb smiled.
She didn’t realize Dominic was standing in the doorway until the song ended.
Mara stood fast.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Mercer.”
Dominic looked at his son.
Caleb was still smiling.
“When was the last time you laughed during piano?”
Caleb thought.
“Never.”
Dominic looked back at Mara.
“Then apparently you’re better than the tutor.”
Caleb grabbed Mara’s hand.
“Can she stay?”
Mara’s stomach tightened.
Dominic saw it.
“She works here, Caleb.”
“No. I mean with me.”
The boy squeezed her fingers.
Dominic’s expression changed.
Something unreadable passed through his eyes.
Then he said, “We’ll see.”
That night, Mara returned to the small staff room assigned to her.
Something was lying on her pillow.
A photograph.
Old.
Faded.
It showed a sixteen-year-old girl standing beside a burning house.
Mara.
May you like
On the back, someone had written four words.
I KNOW YOUR REAL NAME.
