Chapter 2 - THE BOYS WEREN’T TRYING TO MAKE NIA QUIT. THEY WERE TRYING TO MAKE HER LEAVE BEFORE SOMETHING HAPPENED TO HER“That’s exactly what the last nanny said.”
Nia slowly lowered the baseball.
Above her, four boys stared over the railing.
Evan, eleven, stood in front.
Caleb, nine, leaned against a carved column with both arms folded.
Seven-year-old Noah had the wide-eyed expression of someone who had just discovered a magic trick.
Luke, six, looked disappointed.
“You were supposed to duck.”
Nia looked at him.
“Terrible apology.”
“I didn’t apologize.”
“Exactly.”
Behind her, Adrian exhaled through his nose.
“Boys. Downstairs.”
Nobody moved.
Adrian’s voice changed.
“Now.”
Four children disappeared.
Nia handed him the baseball.
“You said angry.”
“They are.”
“You forgot organized.”
That almost produced the smile again.
Almost.
Within five minutes, the boys appeared in the breakfast room.
None sat.
Evan stayed by the windows.
Caleb climbed onto a chair backward.
Noah positioned himself near the exit.
Luke immediately crawled beneath the table.
Nia noticed all of it.
Children told stories with distance.
Evan wanted visibility.
Caleb wanted elevation.
Noah wanted escape.
Luke wanted cover.
Interesting.
Adrian stood at the head of the table.
“Nia will be staying with us for three days.”
“Seventy-two hours,” Evan corrected.
Nia looked at him.
“Planning something?”
“No.”
“Excellent. Then I can relax.”
Caleb laughed.
Evan glared at him.
Adrian continued.
“If Ms. Carter decides to remain after that, she’ll take over your weekday care.”
Luke’s voice came from beneath the table.
“She won’t.”
Nia crouched.
“Why?”
His eyes widened because she had actually asked.
“Because nobody does.”
That answer was quieter than the others.
Nia sat on the floor.
Not under the table.
Near it.
“Do you want them to?”
Luke shook his head.
Too fast.
“No.”
“Okay.”
She stood.
Adrian frowned.
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
“You’re not going to tell him hiding under furniture is inappropriate?”
“He already knows what furniture is for.”
Noah laughed.
Even Adrian’s mouth twitched.
Nia looked around.
“Breakfast?”
“We ate,” Caleb said.
“No, you moved food around.”
Everyone froze.
Nia pointed.
Evan’s toast had been torn into eight pieces.
Caleb’s eggs were hidden beneath a napkin.
Noah’s cereal had absorbed enough milk to become concrete.
Luke’s plate was untouched.
“You haven’t eaten.”
“We’re not hungry,” Evan said.
Four boys.
Same answer.
Interesting again.
Nia walked toward sideboard.
A row of silver warming dishes.
Eggs.
Bacon.
Fruit.
French toast.
She ignored all of it.
Instead she found peanut butter, bananas, bread.
Adrian watched.
“What are you doing?”
“Making breakfast.”
“There is breakfast.”
“No. There’s a negotiation.”
Ten minutes later, Nia sat at the kitchen island eating a peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich.
No lecture.
No request.
No plates arranged in front of children.
Luke emerged first.
“What’s that?”
“Food.”
“It looks gross.”
“Excellent. More for me.”
He climbed onto stool.
“Can I have one?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I need to know whether you’re allergic to peanuts.”
“No.”
Adrian answered from doorway.
“No allergies.”
Nia made Luke half.
Noah appeared next.
Then Caleb.
Evan resisted longest.
Eleven minutes later, all four were eating.
Adrian watched from the doorway like somebody observing an unfamiliar species.
Nia looked at him.
“Don’t stare.”
He frowned.
“At my children?”
“They know.”
He looked away.
That mattered.
After breakfast came war.
Someone filled Nia’s shoes with shaving cream.
She rinsed them.
Someone replaced shampoo in guest bathroom with blue food dye.
She spotted it before using it.
Someone set an alarm beneath her mattress to scream every seven minutes.
She dismantled it.
At noon, Luke locked her inside linen closet.
Nia sat on folded towels and waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
At twelve minutes, she heard whispering.
“She’s not yelling.”
“Maybe she died.”
“You can’t die in a closet.”
“You can die anywhere.”
Silence.
Nia’s attention sharpened.
Then Noah whispered:
“Like Mom.”
The door opened abruptly.
Evan stood there.
His face pale.
Nia came out slowly.
Nobody laughed.
She looked at the boys.
“You okay?”
Evan immediately became angry.
“You’re the one who got locked in.”
“Yes.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Probably.”
“You should tell Dad.”
“Do you want me to?”
“No.”
Nia studied him.
“Why?”
Evan walked away.
The afternoon became quieter.
Not peaceful.
Testing.
Luke threw crayons.
Noah refused schoolwork.
Caleb told Nia she looked poor.
Nia replied:
“I am.”
He had no answer for that.
Evan asked what she would do if somebody broke into the house.
“Depends.”
“What if they had a gun?”
“Get you away.”
“What if you couldn’t?”
“Then I’d still try.”
“What if Dad wasn’t here?”
Nia looked at him.
“That’s the third time you’ve asked about your father being gone.”
Evan went still.
Then:
“So?”
“So nothing.”
She returned to his math worksheet.
He watched her suspiciously.
At 5:30, Adrian returned from Manhattan.
The boys became different children.
Not better.
Controlled.
Luke stopped shouting.
Noah put toys away without being told.
Caleb lowered his voice.
Evan stood straighter.
Nia noticed.
Adrian apparently did not.
“How bad?”
he asked her.
“In what category?”
“My sons.”
“They’re children.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Then it’s a bad question.”
His gaze hardened.
Most employees would have apologized.
Nia continued.
“Luke locked me in a closet.”
Adrian’s expression changed instantly.
“He did what?”
Luke went white.
There.
Fear.
Nia moved before Adrian could speak.
“I got out.”
Adrian looked toward Luke.
“Come here.”
“No.”
The word barely came.
Adrian’s eyebrows lowered.
Nia said:
“Adrian.”
He looked at her.
“Not now.”
“You hired me to work with them.”
“And?”
“So let me.”
He stared.
Then, astonishingly, stepped back.
Nia crouched near Luke.
“Why did you lock me in?”
The little boy looked at the floor.
“To make you go home.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re dumb.”
“No.”
Silence.
“You don’t know me enough to know whether I’m dumb.”
Caleb snorted.
Luke’s eyes filled.
Nia softened.
“Try again.”
Luke looked toward Evan.
Evan shook his head sharply.
That was the moment.
Not misbehavior.
Coordination.
Nia turned.
“Evan.”
“No.”
“I didn’t ask anything yet.”
“You were going to.”
“What shouldn’t Luke tell me?”
His face closed.
“Nothing.”
Nia looked at Adrian.
“Did all fourteen caregivers leave because of behavior?”
“Yes.”
“Did you speak to them?”
“My household manager did exit interviews.”
“Did you?”
Adrian went quiet.
“No.”
“Who is your household manager?”
“Margaret Sloan.”
Nia had met Margaret briefly.
Late fifties.
Perfect bun.
Soft voice.
Keys at waist.
The woman who handed Nia a schedule with every minute of boys’ day prescribed.
“Can I see those exit interviews?”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because four children are working together to make adults leave.”
“That isn’t unusual.”
“It is when the youngest is six and terrified of what happens if they fail.”
The room went silent.
Luke began crying.
Not loudly.
He covered his mouth.
Adrian took one step.
Luke backed away.
Nia saw pain flash across Adrian’s face.
She sat on floor again.
“Luke.”
He shook his head.
“You’re not in trouble.”
Still nothing.
Noah whispered:
“We’re not supposed to.”
Evan snapped:
“Shut up.”
Nia turned.
“Supposed to what?”
Nobody answered.
Adrian’s voice became quiet.
“Boys.”
Evan looked directly at his father.
For a second, he looked far older than eleven.
“You won’t believe us.”
Adrian stopped.
“What?”
“You never believe us.”
“That is not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
Evan’s voice shook.
“You believe Mrs. Sloan.”
There.
Margaret.
Adrian stared.
“What does Mrs. Sloan have to do with this?”
Evan’s eyes went toward staircase.
Then toward security camera mounted high in corner.
Nia followed his gaze.
“You don’t want to say it here.”
Evan’s face changed.
She had guessed correctly.
Nia stood.
“Okay.”
Adrian frowned.
“Okay?”
“We go somewhere without cameras.”
“This house has cameras in every common area.”
“Exactly.”
Nia looked at boys.
“Outside.”
Ten minutes later, they stood at far edge of garden beneath bare oak trees.
No cameras nearby.
Adrian had insisted on coming.
The boys had insisted he stay twenty feet away.
That alone looked like it physically hurt him.
Nia sat on stone bench.
“What are you afraid I’ll find?”
Evan looked at brothers.
Then whispered:
“The room.”
“What room?”
“The one upstairs.”
“Whose?”
No answer.
Caleb began crying.
Angry tears.
“They said we imagined it.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Sloan.”
“What happened?”
Noah whispered:
“The last nanny found it.”
Nia’s skin cooled.
“What did she find?”
Evan looked at Adrian standing in distance.
Then back at Nia.
“She found Mom’s phone.”
Nia froze.
“Your mother’s phone?”
Evan nodded.
“She gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“She said Dad needed to see something.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“What happened to the nanny?”
Luke whispered:
“Ambulance.”
The cold intensified.
“Why?”
“She fell down the stairs.”
Nia stared.
“One of the two caregivers who left by ambulance?”
“Yes.”
“Her name?”
“Rachel.”
Nia stood.
“Where is the phone?”
Evan hesitated.
Then reached inside his jacket.
From a sewn opening in the lining, he removed something wrapped in a sock.
A cracked black smartphone.
Adrian saw it from across lawn.
His face changed.
He walked forward.
“Where did you get that?”
Evan immediately stepped behind Nia.
The gesture destroyed Adrian.
Nia held out one hand.
“Slow.”
“That belonged to my wife.”
“I gathered that.”
“How long have you had it?”
Evan whispered:
“Eight months.”
Adrian stared.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
His son’s face crumpled.
“Because Rachel tried.”
Silence.
“And then she fell.”
Adrian stopped breathing.
Evan held the phone against his chest.
“Mrs. Sloan said if we told anybody else, they might fall too.”
No one moved.
The boys had not spent eleven months terrorizing caregivers because they hated help.
They had been driving adults away because they thought staying inside Adrian Vale’s mansion could get someone hurt.
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And fourteen nannies had misunderstood the warning.
Until Nia.
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