Chapter 2 - Four Children and a Locked Door
Nora expected Arthur Costa's mansion to look like a fortress.
It did.
Iron gates.
Security cameras.
Two armed guards at the entrance.
Black SUVs lining the circular driveway.
But she wasn't prepared for the sound that greeted her when she entered.
A child was screaming.
Not crying.
Screaming.
“You can't make me!”
A door slammed upstairs.
Arthur closed his eyes.
Nora looked at him.
“Family?”
“Every morning.”
A boy appeared at the top of the staircase.
He was twelve.
Dark hair.
Thin face.
Eyes far too serious for his age.
Marco Costa.
He looked at Nora.
Then at Arthur.
“Is she the new one?”
Arthur's expression hardened.
“Marco.”
“What?”
“Don't.”
Marco shrugged.
“I was just asking.”
A little girl appeared behind him.
Sophie.
Nine years old.
She stared at Nora with open suspicion.
Behind her stood Elena, fourteen, whose expression was colder than both.
The youngest, Thomas, was seven.
He didn't come downstairs.
Arthur looked toward the hallway.
“Where's Tommy?”
No answer.
He sighed.
“Again.”
Nora watched him climb the stairs.
She followed.
Arthur opened a bedroom door.
Empty.
A window was open.
Nora's heart stopped.
“He climbed out?”
“He does that when he's scared.”
“Scared of what?”
Arthur looked at her.
“Me.”
Nora froze.
The strongest man in Chicago looked suddenly like a father who had no idea how to fix his own home.
“He thinks I blame him for his mother's death.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Does he know?”
Arthur looked away.
“I've told him.”
“That isn't the same as making him believe it.”
Arthur looked back.
Something changed in his expression.
“You're right.”
They found Thomas in the greenhouse.
He was hiding beneath a workbench.
Nora crouched several feet away.
“Hi.”
The boy stared at her.
“You're going to marry my dad.”
“Maybe.”
“Then you're going to leave.”
Nora swallowed.
“Why?”
“Everyone does.”
She sat on the floor.
She didn't reach for him.
“Who left?”
“Mom.”
Arthur stood behind Nora.
She glanced back.
“Give us a minute.”
Arthur hesitated.
Then walked away.
Thomas watched him disappear.
“He never cries.”
“Neither do I.”
The boy looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because people think crying means they win.”
Thomas considered that.
Then crawled out.
“You're weird.”
“Probably.”
That earned the smallest smile.
By dinner, Nora had learned three things.
Elena hated Arthur.
Marco distrusted everyone.
Sophie tested people by deliberately breaking rules.
And Thomas kept a photograph of his mother beneath his pillow.
The dinner itself was chaos.
Sophie knocked over her juice.
Marco argued with Arthur.
Elena refused to eat.
Thomas sat silently.
Nora didn't interfere.
Instead, she began telling a ridiculous story about a woman who once accidentally walked into the wrong wedding.
By the time she reached the punchline, Sophie was laughing.
Even Marco smiled.
Arthur watched from the other end of the table.
His children hadn't laughed like that in months.
Later, Nora stood alone in the kitchen.
Arthur entered.
“You handled them well.”
“I didn't do anything.”
“Exactly.”
She looked at him.
“You're trying too hard.”
“At what?”
“To fix everything.”
Arthur's face tightened.
“Someone has to.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“Sometimes children don't need fixing.”
Arthur stared at her.
“They need someone who stays.”
He said nothing.
Then Nora noticed something.
Arthur's left hand was shaking.
Barely.
But it was.
“You're afraid,” she whispered.
He looked at her sharply.
“Of what?”
“Losing them.”
Arthur's expression softened.
“Yes.”
Nora hadn't expected honesty.
Neither had he.
That night, Arthur gave her a room across the hall from the children.
Before leaving, he stopped at the door.
“I won't touch you without permission.”
Nora nodded.
“Thank you.”
He walked away.
Nora closed the door.
Then she noticed something beneath the pillow.
A folded piece of paper.
She opened it.
Three words were written in a child's handwriting.
Don't trust Dad.
Nora's blood ran cold.
She looked toward the hallway.
Thomas stood there.
His face was pale.
“He didn't write it,” Thomas whispered.
“Who did?”
May you like
The boy pointed toward Arthur's office.
“Mom.”
