Chapter 1 - THE BRIEFCASE HIT THE FLOOR
The first thing I heard when I opened the front door was Oliver crying.
Not fussing.
Not whining.
Screaming.
My briefcase was still in my hand when I stepped into the living room.
Then I stopped.
Serena stood beside the sofa in her dark-red dress, one arm raised.
Lily was on the carpet beneath her.
My fourteen-month-old son was tucked behind Lily’s body.
Lily’s brown hair had been pulled loose from its neat ponytail.
One side of her face was red.
She had one arm stretched protectively across Oliver while the other shielded his head.
Serena had not seen me.
She was looking down at Lily.
My briefcase slipped from my fingers.
THUD.
Every head turned.
Serena’s raised hand froze.
Lily looked at me.
Relief flooded her face so violently that my stomach dropped.
“Victor…”
Serena said my name first.
I looked at Oliver.
He immediately reached both hands toward me.
“Da!”
I crossed the room.
Serena stepped toward me.
“Victor, thank God—”
I walked past her.
Straight to my son.
Lily shifted carefully.
“Mr. Blackwood—”
“Is he hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
I picked Oliver up.
He buried his face against my neck.
His whole body trembled.
I had never felt him shake like that.
“What happened?”
Serena answered instantly.
“She attacked me.”
I looked at Lily.
She didn’t speak.
Serena pointed.
“She tried to take Oliver away from me.”
Lily finally said:
“No.”
Serena laughed bitterly.
“Of course she’d say that.”
I looked at Lily’s cheek.
“Who hit you?”
Silence.
“Lily.”
She swallowed.
“Ms. Vale.”
Serena exploded.
“She was refusing to give me your son!”
My son.
Interesting choice.
Not Oliver.
Not the baby.
Your son.
I looked at her.
“Why were you trying to take him?”
“He was crying.”
“And?”
“She was making it worse.”
Lily shook her head.
“She grabbed him first.”
Serena turned.
“You little liar.”
Oliver flinched at her voice.
That told me more than anything else.
I looked down.
His fingers tightened around the lapel of my suit.
“Serena.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“Lower your voice.”
Her expression changed.
“You’re taking her side?”
“I’m holding a frightened fourteen-month-old child who just reacted to you shouting.”
“I love him!”
“Then stop frightening him.”
Her mouth fell open.
Lily slowly pushed herself up beside the sofa.
She winced.
I noticed.
“Are you hurt?”
“My shoulder.”
Serena scoffed.
“She fell.”
Lily looked at me.
“She shoved me.”
“I was trying to get to Oliver.”
“By pushing his nanny while she was holding him?”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
That sentence stayed with me.
I wasn’t thinking.
Serena always thought.
That was who she was.
Precise.
Controlled.
The woman who scheduled dinners three weeks ahead and corrected florists over shades of ivory.
Nothing about what I had walked into looked accidental.
I carried Oliver toward the armchair and sat.
“Lily, come here.”
Serena immediately said:
“She needs to leave.”
I looked up.
“No.”
“She is an employee.”
“Yes.”
“This is my house too.”
“No.”
That stopped her.
We were engaged.
She lived there.
But the Beverly Hills mansion belonged to me through a family holding company established before I met Serena.
She had no ownership interest.
I had never used that fact against her.
Until now.
“It will be your house after we marry,” I continued. “But right now, nobody is leaving until I understand why my son is terrified.”
Serena stared.
Then crossed her arms.
“Fine.”
Lily sat across from me.
Oliver reached toward her.
I let him.
He leaned halfway out of my arms.
Lily instinctively took him.
He settled almost immediately against her chest.
Serena watched.
Her face hardened.
That reaction mattered.
Not relief that he was calm.
Resentment.
I asked Lily:
“Start from the beginning.”
She looked at Serena.
Serena smiled coldly.
“Go ahead.”
Lily’s voice trembled.
“Oliver was playing by the coffee table.”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Vale came in.”
Serena interrupted.
“I live here.”
I held up one hand.
“Let her finish.”
Lily continued.
“Oliver crawled to me.”
“Then?”
“Ms. Vale picked him up.”
“That’s normal.”
“Yes.”
“But he started crying.”
I looked at Oliver.
“He sometimes cries when someone picks him up.”
“I know.”
Lily swallowed.
“But she got angry.”
Serena rolled her eyes.
“I did not.”
Lily continued anyway.
“She told him to stop being spoiled.”
My jaw tightened.
“Then?”
“She tried to make him sit with her.”
“How?”
“He kept reaching for me.”
Lily hesitated.
“Then Ms. Vale said I was making him dependent.”
Serena said:
“You are.”
I looked at her.
“Dependent on his nanny?”
“He prefers her to everyone.”
“Not everyone.”
Serena’s eyes flicked toward me.
There it was.
This was not about childcare.
It was about competition.
Lily continued:
“She pulled him toward herself. I tried to support him because he was twisting.”
“Then?”
“She slapped me.”
Serena said:
“After she screamed in my face.”
“Did you slap her?”
Silence.
“Serena.”
“Yes.”
The room went still.
“Why?”
“She disrespected me.”
I stared at her.
“You hit the woman holding my son because she disrespected you?”
“She forgets her place.”
Lily’s face changed.
I heard the phrase as if it belonged to someone else’s century.
“What place?”
“She works for us.”
“She works for me.”
Serena laughed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“You always protect the staff.”
“Is that supposed to be criticism?”
“You protect everyone except the woman you’re marrying.”
Oliver whimpered.
I stood.
“Enough.”
Serena’s eyes filled.
Not tears yet.
Anger.
“You have no idea what she’s been doing.”
I looked at Lily.
“What has she been doing?”
Serena smiled.
“Ask her why Oliver calls her ‘Mama’ when you’re not home.”
Lily’s face went white.
I looked down at my son.
Then at the nanny who had spent nine months caring for him.
“What did she just say?”
Lily whispered:
“He said it once.”
Serena stepped closer.
“Once?”
Lily looked at me.
“He’s learning words. He says sounds.”
“Did he call you Mama?”
“I think he was trying to say my name.”
“Your name is Lily.”
“I know.”
Serena laughed.
“You think I’m stupid?”
I said:
“Stop.”
She turned to me.
“You want to know what this is really about?”
“Yes.”
Serena pointed at Lily.
“She isn’t just attached to Oliver.”
Her voice dropped.
“She’s been searching your wife’s things.”
My late wife.
Amelia.
Dead eighteen months.
Everything inside me changed.
“What?”
Lily’s eyes filled.
“I can explain.”
Serena smiled.
And suddenly I knew the fight I had walked into was only the visible part.
“What did you find?”
Lily looked at Oliver.
May you like
Then at me.
“A letter with my mother’s name on it.”
