Chapter 1 - The Man in Room 4B
Nora Bennett was lifting a spoon toward the old man’s mouth when the door slammed open.
“Step away from him.”
Matteo Moretti entered holding the wheelchair’s broken leather identification strap.
Three letters had been scratched beneath the buckle.
J.M.S.
Matteo stopped breathing.
The helpless old man was not who the staff had been told he was.
Nora lowered the spoon.
She did not stand.
That surprised Matteo more than anything.
Most people stood when he entered a room.
Some did it because they respected him.
Others because they were afraid.
Nora did neither.
She remained on the small stool beside the wheelchair, one hand beneath the bowl of minestrone and the other resting protectively near her swollen stomach.
The elderly man beside her watched Matteo with clear gray eyes.
Matteo looked from him to Nora.
“Who gave you permission to be here?”
“Mrs. Gable.”
Nora hesitated.
“Technically.”
“Technically?”
“She told me to bring him lunch.”
Matteo looked at the bowl.
“That isn't what the kitchen serves him.”
“No.”
“What happened to his lunch?”
Nora pointed toward the dresser.
A bowl of cold oatmeal sat beneath plastic wrap.
Matteo's jaw tightened.
“How long has that been there?”
“I don't know.”
“You replaced it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Nora stared at him as if the answer should have been obvious.
“Because it was cold.”
For several seconds, Matteo said nothing.
He had returned to the Moretti estate three days earlier than expected.
Nobody except his security chief knew.
A problem involving one of the family's construction companies had taken him to Chicago for nearly a month, and he had planned to spend another week there.
Instead, an anonymous message had arrived that morning.
GO HOME.
CHECK THE EAST WING.
DON'T WARN GABLE.
There had been no signature.
Matteo did not ignore warnings.
Especially warnings concerning his home.
He had entered through the private west entrance without notifying the household staff.
Then he had heard a woman's voice coming from Room 4B.
A room that was supposed to be quiet.
Always quiet.
Now he saw sunlight pouring through curtains that had apparently been opened for the first time in weeks.
A fire burned.
Fresh water stood beside the wheelchair.
And his father was wearing a clean burgundy robe Matteo had not seen in years.
Matteo looked at Nora again.
“What's your name?”
“Nora Bennett.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Eleven weeks.”
“And you've been taking care of him?”
“Not officially.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means nobody asked me to.”
Matteo's eyes narrowed.
Nora realized how that sounded.
“I bring his meals sometimes. I open the curtains. I make the fire. I sit with him when I can.”
“You sit with him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Nora glanced at the old man.
“Because everyone else talks about him like he isn't in the room.”
Something shifted in Matteo's face.
Not anger.
Something harder to identify.
The old man moved his fingers.
Nora immediately noticed.
“You want water?”
His eyes blinked once.
Nora reached for the glass.
Matteo watched her position the straw carefully and hold it while the old man drank.
She didn't rush him.
She didn't look impatient.
When he finished, she wiped a drop of water from his chin with a clean cloth.
The gesture was so ordinary that it struck Matteo like an accusation.
“When did you last see his nurse?” Matteo asked.
Nora looked confused.
“His nurse?”
“Yes.”
“I've never seen one.”
Matteo became very still.
“He has two.”
Nora's stomach tightened.
“I didn't know that.”
“Where's Gable?”
“Downstairs.”
Matteo took out his phone.
Before he could make the call, footsteps approached.
Mrs. Evelyn Gable appeared in the doorway.
Her face changed the instant she saw him.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Matteo looked at her.
“Surprised?”
“Of course not. We simply weren't expecting you until—”
“I know when you expected me.”
Her gaze moved toward Nora.
The warmth vanished from her expression.
“What are you doing here?”
“You sent me,” Nora said.
“I sent you with lunch. I didn't tell you to interfere with Mr. Moretti's medical care.”
Nora glanced at Matteo.
Mr. Moretti.
She looked at the old man.
Then back at Matteo.
Her face lost color.
Matteo saw the realization.
“This is your father?”
Mrs. Gable answered before he could.
“That's none of your concern.”
Matteo turned toward her.
“I believe she asked me.”
Silence.
“Yes,” Matteo said.
Nora looked at the frail man beside her.
Everyone called him Old John.
Nobody had told her his full name.
John Moretti.
Father of Matteo Moretti.
Founder of the empire that had made the family powerful enough for newspapers to print rumors carefully.
Nora swallowed.
“I didn't know.”
John's hand moved.
His fingers closed weakly around hers.
Matteo noticed.
So did Gable.
Her expression hardened.
“Nora, downstairs. Now.”
Nora started to rise.
John would not release her.
She stopped.
“Sir?”
His grip tightened.
Gable stepped forward.
“He gets confused.”
“No,” Nora said quietly.
“What?”
Nora looked at John.
“He doesn't.”
Gable laughed once.
“You've been here eleven weeks. I've managed this household for fourteen years.”
“And I've spent almost every afternoon with him for three weeks.”
“You have done what?”
Nora knew instantly she had made a mistake.
Gable's eyes flashed.
“You neglected your duties to sit here?”
“I finished my work.”
“You were hired as a maid, not a companion.”
“He was alone.”
“He requires professional care.”
“What professional care?”
The words escaped before Nora could stop them.
Gable stared.
Nora's heartbeat accelerated.
She thought of her baby.
Her paycheck.
The tiny employee room upstairs.
The debts waiting outside the mansion gates.
She needed this job.
She could not afford courage.
But then she looked at John's thin wrist.
At the untouched trays.
At the cold room she had first found him in.
Something inside her refused to retreat.
“I've never seen a nurse,” Nora said.
Gable's voice dropped.
“Pack your things.”
Nora's stomach sank.
“Mrs. Gable—”
“You're terminated.”
Matteo spoke.
“No.”
Gable turned.
“Sir?”
“She isn't terminated.”
“But—”
“I said no.”
John's eyes remained fixed on his son.
Gable forced a smile.
“Of course. We can discuss this privately.”
“We're discussing it now.”
Matteo lifted the broken leather strap.
“Why was this removed from his wheelchair?”
Gable's smile disappeared.
“I don't know.”
“You manage the staff.”
“Yes.”
“You manage this wing.”
“Yes.”
“You approved his nurses.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“So where are they?”
“I'll check the schedule.”
“You don't need to.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“I already did.”
Gable's face changed.
Only slightly.
But Nora saw it.
Fear.
Matteo continued.
“Neither nurse has entered this property in nineteen days.”
“That can't be correct.”
“It is.”
“There must be an administrative mistake.”
“My father hasn't had an administrative mistake.”
His voice became quieter.
“He's been neglected.”
Gable straightened.
“I would never permit that.”
John suddenly made a sound.
Everyone looked at him.
His mouth trembled.
Nora leaned closer.
“Mr. Moretti?”
His breathing changed.
Matteo took a step forward.
“Dad?”
John's eyes moved toward Gable.
Then toward Nora.
His lips parted.
Nothing came.
Gable exhaled.
“You see? He hasn't been capable of communicating since his stroke.”
Nora frowned.
She had seen John communicate.
Not with words.
With his eyes.
With his fingers.
With tiny movements everyone else had stopped noticing.
She squeezed his hand.
“Take your time.”
Gable looked irritated.
“Nora.”
Nora ignored her.
John tried again.
Air moved through his throat.
Matteo froze.
His father had not spoken since the stroke five years earlier.
Not once.
Doctors had said the neurological damage might be permanent.
John looked directly at Nora.
Then he forced out one broken syllable.
“Stay.”
Nora's eyes widened.
Matteo went pale.
Gable stepped backward.
John drew another breath.
“She…”
His voice cracked.
Nora leaned closer.
“What?”
John's gaze shifted toward Gable.
Fear entered his eyes.
Not confusion.
Fear.
“She…”
His hand began trembling.
Matteo rushed forward.
“Dad?”
John suddenly grabbed Nora's wrist.
Harder than she thought possible.
His other hand lifted from the wheelchair.
One finger pointed toward the wall.
At first Nora saw nothing.
Then she noticed the antique portrait.
A younger John stood beside his late wife.
Behind the frame was something dark.
A tiny black lens.
A camera.
Matteo crossed the room and ripped the portrait away.
A wire disappeared into the wall.
Nobody spoke.
Matteo turned toward Gable.
“Who installed this?”
“I have no idea.”
John made another sound.
Nora looked down.
He was pointing again.
Not at the camera.
At the bottom drawer of the dresser.
Matteo opened it.
Empty.
He pulled harder.
The drawer came free.
Behind it sat a small black phone.
Its screen suddenly lit.
One new message.
Matteo picked it up.
Nora saw the words over his shoulder.
HE SPOKE.
Then another message arrived.
GET THE GIRL OUT BEFORE HE TELLS HER WHO HAS REALLY BEEN WATCHING.
May you like
And somewhere inside the wall behind them, a lock clicked.
Someone had just opened the hidden door.
