Chapter 2
I didn’t sleep that night.
By morning, I had already called the one man who could dig up anything without leaving a trace.
“I need everything on Hannah Mercer,” I told him. “Employment history, education, family. Everything.”
“Should I ask why?”
“No.”
He called back four hours later.
“She has a pediatric rehabilitation license, Dominic. Top of her class. Worked at Lenox Hill for three years specializing in gait training for children with cerebral palsy and neuromuscular conditions.”
I sat back in my chair.
“Then why is she working as a maid in my house?”
“That’s the strange part. She resigned from Lenox Hill eight months ago. No new employer on record until your household.”
“Reason for resignation?”
“Unlisted. Sealed personnel file.”
Something about that didn’t sit right.
That evening, I watched Hannah work with Claire in the sunroom again, this time through the window instead of the monitor.
She wasn’t just playing games with paper moons.
She was counting Claire’s steps under her breath. Adjusting her posture with small, precise touches. Watching her right knee with the focus of someone trained for exactly this.
She was a professional.
She had been one this entire time.
I confronted her after the girls went to bed.
“You’re not a nanny,” I said. “You’re a licensed pediatric rehabilitation specialist.”
Hannah’s hands stilled over the tea she was making.
“I applied for the household position. Not a lie, Mr. Reyes.”
“You omitted the truth.”
“I omitted my resume. There’s a difference.”
“Why hide something like this?”
She turned to face me, calm as always, though something flickered behind her eyes.
“Because if I told you what I actually do, you would have hired me as a specialist. Paid me. Scheduled me. Treated it like another line item in Claire’s file.”
“That’s not unreasonable.”
“No. But it’s not what she needed.”
I frowned. “Meaning?”
“Claire didn’t need another appointment, Mr. Reyes. She needed someone who showed up every single day, who wasn’t watching the clock, who made walking feel like an adventure instead of therapy. I couldn’t give her that as a contractor who left at five o’clock.”
I studied her carefully.
“Why leave Lenox Hill?”
For the first time, her composure cracked slightly.
“That’s not a conversation for tonight.”
“I asked you a question.”
“And I’m allowed to have things I don’t explain to a man I’ve worked for less than two weeks.”
She wasn’t wrong.
But it bothered me more than it should have.
“I’ll find out eventually,” I said. “I find out everything eventually.”
“I don’t doubt that.” She met my eyes without flinching. “When you do, I hope you remember why I came here in the first place. Not because of who you are. Because of who Claire is.”
She left the kitchen before I could respond.
I stood there a long time, replaying her words.
In my world, everyone wanted something from me — protection, money, favors, silence.
Hannah wanted nothing.
That unsettled me more than any threat ever had.
Two days later, my head of security knocked on my study door, his face grim in a way I recognized immediately.
“Dominic. We picked up chatter. Someone’s been asking questions about your house. About your daughters.”
My blood went cold.
“Who.”
“We’re still confirming. But the name that came up…” He hesitated. “It’s connected to the Castellano situation from six years ago.”
I felt the past reach forward and grip my throat.
“Increase security. Now. And get eyes on every entrance.”
He nodded and left.
I looked toward the staircase, toward the room where my daughters slept, unaware that the world I had built was about to come looking for them.
