Chapter 2 - THE MAN BEHIND MY DESK
As Nora and I approached my study, I heard Harland speaking on the phone.
“She understands the arrangement.”
I stopped.
Nora bumped against my leg.
I put one finger to my lips.
She nodded solemnly.
Harland continued.
“No. Mr. Luca doesn’t need to know. Why would he?”
I opened the door.
His smile disappeared.
For seven years, Harland had hired staff, approved invoices, handled contractors and kept my estate running whenever business took me overseas.
I had considered him indispensable.
Now he stood behind my desk with one hand on a folder.
His eyes moved to Nora.
Annoyance flashed across his face.
“The child shouldn’t be in here.”
Nora pressed herself against my leg.
“Her name is Nora.”
“Of course.”
“Say it.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Nora.”
I sat her near the fireplace.
“You’re not in trouble.”
That promise seemed to confuse her more than comfort her.
Then I faced Harland.
“Why was Nora washing my clothes?”
“A misunderstanding.”
“Explain it.”
“Her mother has been absent from her duties.”
“She has a fever.”
“We have standards, Luca.”
He only used my first name when reminding me he had been around long enough to do so.
That afternoon, it irritated me.
“What standard requires a three-year-old to put her hands in freezing water?”
“I never told her to wash anything.”
Nora whispered:
“You said the blue shirt.”
Harland softened his voice immediately.
“Nora, you’re confused.”
Her eyes dropped.
I watched confidence disappear from her face in seconds.
Adults rarely understand how much power they hold when telling children their own memories are wrong.
“There’s a camera outside the laundry room,” I said.
Harland went still.
Only briefly.
But I saw it.
“If my wording upset her, I’ll apologize.”
“What wording?”
“I might have said her mother needed to recover quickly because this isn’t a charity.”
Nora tightened her grip on my wet shirt.
“And their housing?”
Harland sighed.
“Staff accommodation is linked to employment.”
“Did you tell this child she could lose her home?”
“I certainly didn’t phrase it that way.”
Nora stared at the floor.
“He said Mama has to be useful.”
Harland’s face changed.
“Enough.”
Nora flinched.
I stood.
“Don’t speak to her like that.”
“Luca—”
“Mr. Luca.”
Silence.
After seven years, one title was enough to tell him everything had changed.
Then I noticed the folder beneath his hand.
Payroll.
May you like
“Give it to me.”
And that was when I found the first number that didn’t belong.
