Chapter 1 - SEVENTY-TWO MINUTES
The last nanny ran out of Crossmoor House with one shoe in her hand and blood on her sleeve.
She grabbed Mara Ellison before Mara could reach the front door.
“Don’t go in there.”
Mara stared at her.
Rain hammered the marble steps.
The woman’s mascara streaked down her face.
Chocolate pudding covered one side of her hair.
A red scratch ran from her wrist to her elbow.
“I’m serious,” she whispered.
“Whatever Damon Cross promised you, it isn’t enough.”
Thunder cracked over the Louisiana oaks.
The woman looked back at the mansion.
Then she said, “Those boys know exactly how to make people leave.”
She ran.
Mara watched her disappear through the iron gates.
Every sane part of her said to follow.
Then her phone buzzed.
Custody hearing moved up.
Two weeks from Friday.
We need proof of stable income and housing.
Mara read the message twice.
Her checking account had thirty-six dollars.
Her landlord wanted rent.
Her ex-husband wanted Lily.
And Bryce Caldwell had enough money to convince a judge that poverty was the same thing as bad motherhood.
Mara looked through the kitchen window.
Four six-year-old boys in matching red pajamas were destroying a room worth more than her entire apartment building.
Orange juice ran across the marble.
Cereal flew through the air.
One boy skated through butter.
Another stood on the counter swinging a serving spoon like a sword.
A third was throwing grapes at the chandelier.
The fourth sat quietly on a stool.
Watching.
Then Mara noticed Damon Cross.
Billionaire.
Widower.
Owner of Cross Freight.
A man whose name appeared in business magazines and federal investigations with equal regularity.
He stood at the kitchen island holding a glass of wine.
He looked less like a crime lord and more like a man regretting every decision that had led to fatherhood.
Mara rang the bell.
Ruth Bell opened the door.
“You the new nanny?”
“Mara Ellison.”
Ruth looked toward the driveway.
“You see the last one?”
“Yes.”
“She lasted eleven days.”
“That bad?”
“House record.”
Mara stepped inside.
“I need the job.”
Ruth studied her.
Then she said, “Don’t let the quiet one fool you.”
Inside the kitchen, Damon barely looked at Mara.
“If all four boys are sitting at the table eating real food before eight, you’re hired.”
Mara checked the clock.
6:48.
Seventy-two minutes.
“And if I fail?”
Damon sipped his wine.
“You leave tonight.”
The boys laughed.
All except the quiet one.
He stared at Mara.
Mara put down her purse.
“Fine.”
Damon raised an eyebrow.
“You think you can control them?”
“No.”
That answer got his attention.
Mara walked to the refrigerator.
“I think they’re bored.”
The boy with the spoon shouted, “Attack!”
A grape hit Mara’s shoulder.
She did not react.
Instead, she opened the refrigerator.
“Who wants pancakes?”
Silence.
The butter skater stopped.
The boy on the counter narrowed his eyes.
“We don’t eat pancakes for dinner.”
“Good.”
Mara pulled out eggs.
“I wasn’t asking permission.”
The quiet boy smiled.
Mara found flour.
Then she purposely dropped the bag.
White powder exploded across the floor.
The boys froze.
Damon stared.
Ruth covered her mouth.
Mara looked at the mess.
“Oh no.”
She sighed dramatically.
“I ruined everything.”
One boy laughed.
Then another.
Mara pointed toward the flour.
“Too bad nobody here knows how to clean.”
“We do!” one boy yelled.
“You absolutely do not.”
“We do!”
“Prove it.”
Ten minutes later, all four boys were sweeping flour.
Mara turned cleaning into a race.
Then washing hands became another competition.
Then setting plates became a mission.
By 7:42, three boys were sitting.
The quiet one remained standing.
Mara crouched beside him.
“What’s your name?”
He looked toward Damon.
“Micah.”
“You don’t like dinner?”
“I don’t like strangers.”
“Neither do I.”
Micah studied her.
“Everyone leaves.”
Mara’s expression changed.
For the first time, the chaos made sense.
She lowered her voice.
“Then don’t make me leave.”
His eyes flickered.
At 7:58, Micah climbed into his chair.
Damon slowly lowered his wineglass.
Four boys.
Four plates.
Four children eating pancakes.
Mara looked at the clock.
7:59.
“I believe you owe me a job.”
One boy pointed his fork at her.
“We’re not done with you.”
Mara smiled.
“I was hoping not.”
Micah leaned closer.
Then he whispered something only Mara heard.
“The last nanny didn’t leave because of us.”
Mara’s smile vanished.
“What?”
Micah looked toward the dark hallway.
May you like
“She saw something downstairs.”
And suddenly, somewhere beneath Crossmoor House, a door slammed.
