Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO FORGOT HOW TO SMILE
There are moments in a mother's life when she realizes her child has absolutely no understanding of danger.
Watching Lily Reyes point one tiny finger at Vincent Marquette was one of mine.
"Your shoes," she announced.
Vincent stared at her.
The phone remained against his ear.
"Excuse me?"
"Your shoes are on the couch."
Across the kitchen, Mrs. Doyle stopped pouring coffee.
One of the bodyguards suddenly developed a passionate interest in the ceiling.
I moved toward my daughter.
"Lily, sweetheart, Mr. Marquette is working."
She ignored me.
"Mommy says furniture is not for dirty shoes."
Vincent looked down at his polished black loafers.
Then at Lily.
Then at the refrigerator.
He had apparently noticed the purple-crayon commandments.
"And what happens," he asked slowly, "when someone breaks the rules?"
Lily considered this.
"You have to say sorry."
Vincent's mouth twitched.
"And if I don't?"
She pointed toward the corner beside the fiddle-leaf fig.
"Thinking time."
The bodyguard near the door made a strangled noise.
Vincent turned his head.
The man immediately straightened.
"Something amusing, Marcus?"
"No, sir."
"Then why are you smiling?"
"I'm not, sir."
"You look like you're swallowing a bicycle."
"Allergies, sir."
I wanted the marble floor to swallow me.
Vincent returned his attention to Lily.
"How long?"
"Five minutes."
"That's a serious punishment."
"You were very rude."
He studied her for another moment.
Then he spoke into the phone.
"I'll call you back."
He ended the call.
Removed his shoes from the couch.
Stood.
And walked toward the corner.
The kitchen seemed to stop breathing.
Vincent lowered himself onto the floor beside the enormous plant.
His knees looked ridiculous bent beneath his expensive trousers.
Lily nodded approvingly.
"Good."
Then she marched back toward breakfast.
I followed her with my heart pounding.
"Lily Reyes," I whispered, "we need to discuss appropriate behavior."
She looked genuinely confused.
"But he did the bad thing."
"I know."
"And grown-ups have rules."
"Yes."
"So why are you scared?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because there was no answer I could give a four-year-old without explaining that the world did not punish powerful men the same way it punished everyone else.
Behind us, Vincent spoke.
"She's right."
I turned.
He was still sitting on the floor.
"Rules should apply to everyone."
His expression had changed.
The hard lines around his mouth seemed less severe.
He looked almost human.
Almost.
Then Lily returned with a small plate.
Two pancakes.
Three blueberries.
A crooked drizzle of syrup.
She placed it beside him.
"Breakfast."
Vincent stared.
"I thought I had five minutes."
"You can eat while you think."
Marcus made another terrible noise.
This time Vincent didn't threaten him.
He picked up the plate.
And ate.
That should have been the end of it.
Instead, it became the beginning of something I could neither understand nor control.
By noon, everyone in the mansion knew.
The gardeners knew.
The drivers knew.
The security staff knew.
Even the woman who delivered fresh flowers every Thursday somehow heard about it before Thursday arrived.
The feared Vincent Marquette had been sent to the corner by a preschooler.
And he had obeyed.
Mrs. Doyle found me polishing silverware after lunch.
"Mr. Marquette wants to see you."
My stomach dropped.
"Am I being fired?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Is Lily in trouble?"
Mrs. Doyle looked at me over her glasses.
"Miss Reyes, if your daughter were in trouble, I suspect the rest of us would be considerably more frightened."
That did not comfort me.
Vincent was waiting in the library.
The room smelled of leather, cedar, and expensive decisions.
He stood beside a tall window overlooking the gardens.
"Close the door."
I obeyed.
"Mr. Marquette, I'm terribly sorry about this morning."
"Why?"
I blinked.
"Because Lily interrupted your business call."
"She corrected my behavior."
"She's four."
"I noticed."
"She doesn't understand who you are."
Vincent turned.
"And who am I, Mrs. Reyes?"
The question was so unexpected that I nearly answered honestly.
A dangerous man.
A wealthy man.
A man whose employees lowered their voices when he entered a room.
Instead, I said, "My employer."
He watched me carefully.
"Your daughter doesn't seem impressed by that."
"No, sir."
"Good."
Silence settled between us.
Then he asked, "Does she always make rules?"
"Only when she thinks something is unfair."
"And does she always enforce them?"
"Unfortunately."
Something moved behind his eyes.
A memory, perhaps.
"She reminds me of someone."
I waited.
He didn't elaborate.
Instead, he crossed to his desk and picked up a folder.
"Mrs. Doyle tells me Lily has a cardiology appointment next month."
My shoulders tightened.
"Yes."
"Does she need transportation?"
"I can manage."
"That wasn't my question."
I lifted my chin.
"With respect, Mr. Marquette, I don't want special treatment."
He regarded me for a long moment.
"Neither do I."
Then he smiled faintly.
"Apparently, the rules are very clear about that."
Against my better judgment, I laughed.
It escaped before I could stop it.
His expression softened.
For one brief second, the man in front of me looked lonely enough to break my heart.
Then someone knocked.
Marcus entered.
His amusement from breakfast had vanished.
"Sir. We have a problem."
Vincent's face changed instantly.
"What kind?"
Marcus glanced at me.
"The old kind."
Vincent's voice became cold.
"Mrs. Reyes, take Lily to the kitchen wing."
I remembered Mrs. Doyle's warning.
I left immediately.
But as I closed the door, I heard Marcus say something that stopped my blood.
"The Reyes name came up again."
That evening, I found Lily sitting on our bed with her stuffed rabbit.
Its name was Captain Buttons.
It had once been white.
Now it was the color of old oatmeal.
One ear hung crookedly.
Daniel had bought it from a hospital gift shop the day Lily was born.
She slept with it every night.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Why is Mister sad?"
I folded a sweater.
"Some grown-ups have difficult things on their minds."
"Like bills?"
I stopped.
Children noticed far more than adults wanted to believe.
"Sometimes."
She stroked the rabbit's damaged ear.
"Daddy was sad sometimes."
My heart tightened.
"You don't remember Daddy, sweetheart."
She shook her head.
"I remember his song."
Daniel used to sing nonsense words while rocking her.
He had terrible pitch.
And a beautiful voice.
"What song?"
Lily hummed softly.
Three notes.
Then four.
I sat beside her.
Daniel had sung that melody constantly during the final weeks of his life.
I had almost forgotten it.
"Where did you learn that?"
She looked at Captain Buttons.
"Daddy taught Bunny."
I smiled sadly.
"Did he?"
She nodded.
Then she said something strange.
"Bunny remembers everything."
At eleven that night, someone knocked on Vincent's study door.
It was his younger half brother, Julian Marquette.
Forty-two.
Handsome.
Elegant.
Always smiling.
And utterly incapable of making his smile reach his eyes.
"You've become quite attached to the new housekeeper's child," Julian observed.
Vincent didn't look up from his papers.
"Is there a reason you're here?"
Julian poured himself a drink without permission.
"I heard she put you in the corner."
"News travels."
"Apparently."
Vincent signed a document.
Julian leaned against the desk.
"Children can be inconvenient."
Vincent stopped writing.
"Choose your next words carefully."
Julian smiled.
"I was merely wondering whether you've checked the mother's background."
"Mrs. Doyle handled the hiring."
"Her husband died in a trucking accident."
Vincent's pen remained still.
"Three years ago," Julian continued. "Route 17. Newark."
A long silence followed.
Then Vincent slowly raised his head.
"Why do you know that?"
Julian shrugged.
"I like to know who's living in our house."
Vincent's voice dropped.
"Our house?"
Julian's smile thinned.
"You know what I mean."
But Vincent was no longer listening.
He had opened a drawer.
Inside lay a faded photograph of a young woman standing beside a teenage boy.
On the back, written in blue ink, were five words.
Daniel Reyes. Keep him safe.
Vincent looked from the photograph to his brother.
And for the first time in years, he felt something colder than anger.
Recognition.
Because Daniel Reyes had not been a stranger.
He had once saved Vincent Marquette's life.
And Vincent had spent three years believing Daniel's death was his own fault.
Downstairs, someone quietly opened the door to the laundry room.
A gloved hand removed a tiny white rabbit from a basket of children's clothes.
The intruder examined its crooked ear.
Then produced a small knife.
But footsteps sounded in the hallway.
The rabbit was hurriedly returned.
The intruder slipped into the darkness.
And upstairs, Lily suddenly sat upright in bed.
"Mommy?"
I stirred.
"What is it?"
She hugged Captain Buttons.
"Someone touched Bunny."
I checked the door.
Locked.
The window.
Closed.
Everything appeared normal.
But Lily was trembling.
And beneath the rabbit's crooked ear, I noticed a fresh cut in the stitching.
May you like
Someone had been searching for something.
Something Daniel had hidden before he died.
