Chapter 2 - HER MOTHER CHOSE TO LEAVE THE MANSION
My first instinct was to take Rose and leave.
I don’t mean resign politely, finish my notice, and ask the employment agency for another position.
I mean pick up my daughter, walk out through the service entrance, and keep walking until the estate disappeared behind us.
But people who have never been poor often misunderstand how quickly a person can leave a job that provides both income and housing.
I was thirty-one years old.
Rose was five.
My husband, Daniel, had died two years earlier when another driver ran a red light on an icy February morning. He had been on his way to work, carrying a thermos of coffee and the lunch I’d packed before sunrise.
He never made it to the warehouse where he worked as an electrical maintenance supervisor.
After his death, I learned that grief didn’t suspend bills.
The landlord still wanted rent.
The electric company still wanted payment.
My daughter still needed winter boots, school supplies, and somebody to watch her while I worked.
I’d been a hotel housekeeper before Daniel died. I knew how to manage rooms, schedules, laundry inventories, and difficult guests. But I couldn’t find a position that paid enough to cover rent and childcare without working two shifts.
A staffing agency eventually referred me to Vitali House.
The estate needed an experienced live-in housekeeper.
Children were permitted in the staff accommodation.
The wages were considerably higher than anything else I’d been offered.
I accepted.
For almost two years, Rose and I lived in a small apartment above the east service wing. We had two bedrooms, a kitchenette, and a window overlooking the gardens.
It wasn’t our house.
But it was warm.
It was safe, or so I’d believed.
And every month, I managed to save a little money.
Now Dominic Vitali was telling me there might be someone dangerous inside the mansion.
I looked at him standing beneath the staircase.
“Mr. Vitali, Rose is five.”
“I know.”
“She doesn’t understand your business.”
“I know.”
“She thinks spying is a game.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“That’s why I don’t want her involved.”
I folded my arms.
“Then we need to leave.”
He looked surprised.
“Emily—”
“No. My daughter has already lost her father. I’m not exposing her to another tragedy because somebody in your house is hiding documents.”
His expression hardened for half a second.
It was the expression I had seen when employees disappointed him.
Then it faded.
“You’re right.”
I blinked.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re right to put her safety first.”
He glanced toward Rose, who was trying to retie her sneaker.
“I can arrange temporary accommodations while you decide what to do.”
“I’ll decide where we go.”
“Yes.”
“And Rose doesn’t become part of whatever investigation you’re planning.”
“Agreed.”
I studied him.
Most people in that house treated Dominic’s words as final.
I had just contradicted him three times.
And he was listening.
I wasn’t sure whether that reassured me or made me more frightened.
That afternoon, I packed two suitcases.
Rose watched from her bed.
“Are we going on vacation?”
“Not exactly.”
“Is Uncle Dominic coming?”
“No, sweetheart.”
She frowned.
“Did I make him mad?”
I stopped folding her pajamas.
“No.”
“Because I told him about the spy?”
I sat beside her.
“Rose, listen carefully. You did the right thing by telling a grown-up when you saw something that worried you.”
She nodded.
“But following people around the house isn’t safe. And it’s not your job to investigate them.”
“Even if they’re doing sneaky stuff?”
“Especially then. You come to me.”
She thought about that.
“Is Miss Serena bad?”
I looked toward the door.
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth.
I’d never liked Serena very much, but not liking someone wasn’t proof of wrongdoing.
She could be demanding.
She complained about the staff schedules.
She occasionally left expensive clothing scattered across rooms that had just been cleaned.
But none of that made her a criminal.
And I knew better than to treat my daughter’s imagination as evidence simply because a powerful man appeared to believe her.
“Sometimes grown-ups keep private papers,” I explained. “That doesn’t automatically mean they’re doing something wrong.”
Rose looked disappointed.
“Then maybe she’s not a spy.”
“Maybe not.”
She considered that.
Then she looked at her notebook.
May you like
“But why did she say Uncle Dominic wouldn’t know?”
I had no answer.
Related Stories
