Chapter 2: The Woman in the Doorway
Gerald led me to the boys' wing without another word.
Marcus and Mason were asleep in matching beds, pale and thin in a way that made my chest tighten.
Six years old.
They should have been loud.
Messy.
Impossible to keep still.
Instead they barely moved.
I stood at the doorway and let my eyes do what they always do — not look at what's obvious, but look for what doesn't fit.
The room was immaculate.
Climate-controlled.
Expensive air purifier humming in the corner.
And there it was again.
That faint sweetness.
Stronger here than anywhere else in the house.
I crossed to the ventilation grate above Mason's bed.
The screws were bright.
Unscratched.
In a two-year-old installation, they should have had at least some oxidation, some dust caught in the grooves.
These looked like they'd been opened recently.
More than once.
I pulled out my phone and took a quiet photo.
Behind me, a voice.
*I wouldn't do that if I were you.*
I turned.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Late thirties.
Expensive clothes.
The kind of smile that never reaches the eyes.
*And you are?* I asked.
*Diana Coleman.* She tilted her head.
*Nathan's sister.
The boys' aunt.*
She glanced at my phone, then back at me.
*Dr.
Ashford mentioned you might be…
curious.
He wanted me to let you know — curious nannies don't last long in this house.*
She said it softly.
May you like
Almost kindly.
Like a warning dressed as advice.
