Chapter 2 - The Voice Behind the Door
Dominic reached beneath his jacket.
I didn’t need to see what he was reaching for.
“Wait.”
He ignored me.
The closet door stood twenty feet away.
Noah grabbed my apron with both hands.
“Lady.”
His whisper was almost soundless.
“You mean the lady is in there?”
He shook his head violently.
“No.”
“Then who?”
Before he could answer, Dominic crossed the room.
“Stay behind me.”
I did not argue this time.
The entire atmosphere had changed.
A frightened child was one thing.
A hidden recording from a dead woman was another.
A person knocking from a sealed nursery was something else entirely.
Dominic reached the closet.
He waited.
Nothing.
Then pulled the door open.
Empty.
I stared.
Only old dresses hung inside.
Elena’s, I assumed.
Pale fabrics sealed beneath garment covers.
No person.
No window.
No second door.
Dominic searched every inch.
Then one of the knocks came again.
This time beneath us.
He looked down.
A floorboard.
Three taps.
Pause.
Three taps.
Dominic crouched and pulled aside an old rug.
A rectangular metal panel lay beneath it.
Not a trapdoor exactly.
More like an access hatch.
He opened it.
Inside was a narrow cavity holding wires, an old intercom unit, and another recorder.
The knocking had been mechanical.
Triggered remotely.
Dominic took out his phone.
“Marco.”
A man answered instantly.
“Boss?”
“Lock the estate.”
My blood cooled.
“No one leaves. No one enters. I want every employee accounted for.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Marco?”
“Sir?”
“Someone accessed the west nursery.”
Silence.
Then: “That’s impossible.”
Dominic stared at the second recorder.
“So I’ve been told.”
He ended the call.
Noah was trembling behind me.
I knelt.
“You’re safe.”
His eyes moved to Dominic.
I followed his gaze.
The strange thing was, Dominic looked terrified too.
He hid it better.
But I saw it.
A father who could command armed men had just discovered someone had reached his son inside the safest place he knew.
“Clara,” he said.
“Take Noah upstairs.”
Noah stiffened.
“No.”
Dominic closed his eyes briefly.
I realized he had heard the panic too.
“Where does he usually feel safe?” I asked.
Dominic looked genuinely uncertain.
That answer told me far too much.
“His bedroom.”
“Does he sleep there alone?”
“Usually.”
Usually.
A four-year-old who checked exits and attacked anyone who approached him.
Alone.
I bit back my judgment.
“Can I stay with him?”
Dominic’s eyes met mine.
“You were hired to clean.”
“Today has been unusual.”
To my surprise, his mouth almost moved.
Not quite a smile.
“Stay with him.”
We left the nursery.
Noah refused to release my hand.
Halfway upstairs, shouting erupted near the front entrance.
A man in a dark suit was arguing with security.
Dominic turned sharply.
“Who is that?”
His voice froze the foyer.
The man stopped.
He was around sixty.
Silver hair.
Expensive camel coat.
Polished shoes.
He carried himself like someone accustomed to being welcomed.
“Dominic,” he said.
No warmth.
No fear either.
Dominic came down two steps.
“Victor.”
Something passed between them.
I felt Noah’s fingers tighten.
The older man noticed him.
His expression softened too quickly.
“My boy.”
Noah hid behind me.
Victor’s smile disappeared.
Dominic saw it.
“So,” Victor said, looking at me, “you’re the nineteenth.”
“Nineteenth what?”
“Nanny.”
“I’m the cleaner.”
Victor raised an eyebrow.
“Not anymore, apparently.”
Dominic descended the staircase.
“Why are you here?”
Victor looked offended.
“This is still family property.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“You changed paperwork. You cannot change blood.”
Noah whimpered.
Victor’s eyes moved toward him again.
I stepped slightly to the side, blocking his view.
His gaze snapped to mine.
It was cold now.
“Interesting.”
Dominic came between us.
“Leave.”
Victor laughed once.
“You always did mistake isolation for protection.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“You have thirty seconds.”
Victor looked toward the west corridor.
That was when I noticed it.
He knew.
His eyes stayed there half a beat too long.
Dominic noticed too.
His expression became deadly calm.
“You’ve been in the nursery.”
Victor didn’t answer.
“No one told you what we found.”
Still silence.
Dominic moved closer.
“How do you know?”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“This house belonged to my brother before it belonged to you.”
“Answer me.”
Victor glanced at Noah.
Then lowered his voice.
“Not in front of the child.”
“He is the reason we are having this conversation.”
Victor looked at me.
“She shouldn’t be here either.”
“I decide who stays.”
“Your judgment has always been your weakness.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“My wife used to say the same thing.”
That landed.
Victor’s face changed.
Only briefly.
But I saw it.
So did Dominic.
“Elena contacted you before she died.”
Victor looked away.
Dominic stepped forward.
“Didn’t she?”
“I will speak to you privately.”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“No more closed rooms. No more whispers.”
His voice rose for the first time.
“No more secrets about my son.”
Noah flinched.
Dominic immediately controlled himself again.
Victor looked at the boy.
Then at me.
Finally he said, “Elena believed someone inside this house was watching her.”
The foyer seemed colder.
“Who?”
“She never told me.”
“Why contact you?”
“Because she stopped trusting you.”
Pain crossed Dominic’s face.
Victor continued.
“She believed your business enemies were getting information from inside the estate. Schedules. Security routes. Medical appointments.”
Dominic went still.
“Noah’s medical appointments?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Victor stared at him.
“Because someone wanted access to your son.”
My stomach twisted.
Noah’s behavior suddenly looked different.
Not random violence.
Not tantrums.
Defense.
“Did Elena make those recordings?” I asked.
Victor turned to me.
“She made many.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
Dominic laughed without humor.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
Victor looked toward the door.
“I came because I heard another nanny was injured.”
“How?”
That question stopped him.
Dominic’s voice became very quiet.
“The incident happened this morning.”
Victor remained still.
“Only household staff knew.”
“No.”
I looked down.
Noah had spoken.
Everyone turned.
He pointed at Victor.
“Lady told him.”
Victor’s face changed.
Dominic crouched.
“What lady?”
Noah shook his head.
“It’s okay,” I said.
He looked at me.
“Does she come here?”
A nod.
“Where?”
He pointed upstairs.
“Night.”
Dominic looked at Victor.
Victor looked genuinely confused now.
“What is he talking about?”
I believed him.
Dominic didn’t.
“Search him.”
Two guards appeared.
Victor stepped back.
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Search him.”
They did.
Phone.
Wallet.
Keys.
Nothing.
Then one guard pulled a small black object from Victor’s coat pocket.
A transmitter.
Victor stared at it.
“That isn’t mine.”
Dominic took it.
A red light blinked.
The exact same pattern as the recorder.
Victor’s face went pale.
Someone had planted it.
Or Victor was acting better than I expected.
Dominic turned toward security.
“Take him to the study.”
“You can’t imprison me.”
“I can keep you here until I know who is inside my house.”
Victor looked at Noah.
“Dominic, listen to me. If Elena’s recordings are active again, then whoever frightened her may believe Noah remembers something.”
Dominic’s face changed.
“What could he remember? He was a baby.”
Victor shook his head.
“Not then.”
He looked directly at Noah.
“Now.”
The guards took him away.
Dominic stood motionless.
I picked Noah up.
He resisted for half a second.
Then wrapped both arms around my neck.
Dominic watched.
Again, that hurt look.
“Mr. Vale?”
He looked at me.
“You should check every camera.”
“I already ordered it.”
“Not just today.”
His brow furrowed.
“If someone has been visiting Noah at night, check the last few months.”
His phone rang.
Marco.
Dominic answered.
“What?”
His expression changed.
“When?”
A pause.
“Send it to me.”
He lowered the phone.
“What happened?” I asked.
“The security system has been deleting footage.”
“How much?”
“Every night between 2:10 and 2:18.”
My skin went cold.
“For how long?”
“Seven months.”
Noah buried his face against my shoulder.
Dominic received a video.
He played it.
Eight seconds of recovered footage.
A dark hallway.
Noah’s bedroom door.
Timestamp: 2:13 A.M.
Then a woman entered frame.
Blonde.
Slim.
White dress.
Her face turned toward the camera for less than a second.
Dominic dropped the phone.
I had never seen a powerful man look so afraid.
“Elena,” he whispered.
May you like
I stared at the frozen image.
His dead wife had just walked into Noah’s bedroom.
