Chapter 3 - THE DEAD WOMAN’S WARNING
Mason stood against the closed door.
“Give it back.”
Clara held the photograph gently.
“Was this your mom’s?”
“Give it back!”
Mason charged.
Clara lowered herself to his height.
“I’m not taking it.”
His fists were tight.
His whole body shook.
Not rage.
Panic.
She handed him the picture.
Mason grabbed it and shoved it under Theo’s mattress.
“You tell Dad, you’re fired.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad gets weird about Mom.”
Victor’s voice came from behind them.
“About Mom what?”
Every child froze.
Victor opened the door.
His eyes moved between Clara and Mason.
“Nothing,” Mason said.
Victor looked at Clara.
She could expose the photograph.
She could demand answers.
She could prove she wasn’t easily intimidated.
Instead, she said, “They’re trying to convince me brushing teeth is government oppression.”
Ryder snorted.
Victor studied her for another second.
Then he nodded.
“Lights out in twenty.”
After he left, Mason whispered, “Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Because the picture belongs to you.”
Mason looked suspicious.
“Adults always tell.”
“Bad adults do.”
Theo climbed into bed.
“My mom’s name was Elena.”
“I know.”
“She died.”
Clara’s voice softened.
“I’m sorry.”
Cole spoke from the other bed.
“Dad doesn’t talk about it.”
Ryder pulled his blanket up.
“Uncle Grant does.”
Clara turned.
“What does Grant say?”
Mason shot his brother a warning look.
But Ryder answered anyway.
“That Mom was scared before she died.”
“Scared of what?”
“Bedtime,” Mason snapped. “You said lights out.”
Conversation over.
For now.
At ten-thirty, the house finally became quiet.
Clara accepted the small apartment over the garage immediately.
She would sign employment paperwork the next morning.
For the first time in months, she had a real address.
She called Lily.
Her daughter answered on the second ring.
“Mom?”
Clara smiled.
“Hey, baby.”
“Did you get it?”
“I got it.”
Lily screamed.
Clara had to pull the phone away.
Her sister shouted in the background, “She got what?”
“The job!”
Another scream.
Clara laughed.
She hadn’t realized how badly she needed to laugh.
“Does that mean I can live with you again?”
The question punched the air from her chest.
Clara looked around the furnished apartment.
One bedroom.
Small kitchen.
Clean bathroom.
Safe.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
“As soon as the judge says yes.”
Lily became quiet.
“Is Dad still trying to make me live with him?”
Clara closed her eyes.
“He loves you.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Seven years old.
Too smart.
Too scared.
“I’m working on it.”
After they hung up, Clara cried silently for exactly two minutes.
Then somebody knocked.
Victor stood outside.
No jacket now.
Sleeves rolled.
He looked less like a billionaire and more like an exhausted man who had forgotten how to sleep.
“I wanted to give you this.”
An employment folder.
Clara took it.
“Thanks.”
“You have a daughter.”
She stiffened.
“You heard?”
“The walls in this wing aren’t great.”
“She’ll stay with me eventually.”
“If you need anything for the custody matter—”
“No.”
Victor looked surprised.
“I wasn’t offering charity.”
“Rich people never call it charity.”
His mouth tightened.
“I was going to offer a letter confirming your employment.”
Clara felt stupid.
“Oh.”
“Which is normally what employers do.”
“Right.”
A pause.
“I’m sorry.”
“Accepted.”
He turned to leave.
“Victor.”
He looked back.
Clara almost asked about the photograph.
Instead she asked, “Why did your last nanny run?”
His eyes changed.
“She said the boys locked her in the wine cellar.”
“Did they?”
“She said they did.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Victor looked toward the dark house.
Then back at Clara.
“No.”
Clara’s skin prickled.
“Then who did?”
Victor said nothing.
At that exact moment, something moved outside.
A shadow near the garage.
Clara turned toward the window.
A man stood in the rain, looking up at her apartment.
Victor saw him too.
His face went hard.
“Get away from the window.”
“Who is that?”
May you like
Victor was already reaching for his phone.
“My brother.”
