Chapter 3
He had removed his suit jacket. Without it, he looked less like the terrifying man whispered about in Brooklyn and more like someone who had not slept in years.
“That’s none of your business,” I said.
“It became my business when your employer forced you into my home with a sick infant.”
“My employer was your company.”
“One of many contractors. I did not know how he treated people.”
“But you own it.”
His expression changed.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
The doctor checked Lily’s temperature again.
“It’s beginning to fall.”
Relief weakened my knees.
I sat beside her and pressed my lips to her damp curls.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
The doctor nodded. “She needs fluids. Small amounts, frequently.”
The housekeeper brought warm water, a bottle, and a clean set of infant clothes in Lily’s size.
I stared at them.
“How did you have these?”
“I sent someone to the staff quarters,” she said. “One of the gardeners has a granddaughter who visits.”
Her name, I learned, was Rosa.
She helped me change Lily while the men moved to the kitchen area to speak in low voices.
Once Lily was wrapped in a clean blanket and sleeping more comfortably, I joined Victor.
The older guard placed a phone on the counter.
“The driver is alive,” he said. “He says he lost control.”
“In a straight road?” Victor asked.
“He claims the brakes failed.”
“And the gunshots?”
“Security returned fire after mistaking the impact for an attack.”
The words settled over the room.
I stared at Victor.
“So no one stormed the gates?”
“Not exactly,” the guard said.
May you like
Victor’s face hardened. “Marco.”
The man fell silent.
