Chapter 4 - Panic on the Third Floor
The scream tore through the quiet mansion like a serrated blade.
I didn't wait for Nathaniel. I dropped into a sprint, my bare feet pounding against the wooden floorboards as I raced toward the grand staircase. Behind me, I heard the heavy, powerful strides of the billionaire closing the distance, his breath coming in ragged, furious gasps.
We hit the third-floor landing just as the door to the children’s suite swung violently open.
Little Maya stood in the center of the nursery, shivering in her star-patterned pajamas, pointing frantically toward the open window that led out onto the rain-slicked slate balcony. Her eyes were wide with a terror that went far beyond ordinary nightmares.
"The shadow!" she sobbed, clutching a tattered stuffed rabbit to her chest. "The shadow was in my room! It touched my bed!"
Toby and Leo were awake now too, huddled together near the doorway, their amber eyes wide and defiant, trying to look brave for their sister while trembling from head to toe.
Nathaniel brushed past me, crossing the nursery in two giant strides to throw open the balcony doors and step out into the freezing downpour. I dropped to my knees in front of Maya, pulling her into my arms, pressing her face against my shoulder so she couldn't see the frantic search happening outside.
"I've got you, sweetheart," I murmured, rocking her gently. "I'm right here. Nobody is going to hurt you."
"She had long hair," Maya whispered into my collar, her small fingers clutching the fabric of my shirt like a lifeline. "Just like Aunt Vivian. She smelled like roses and old paper."
My blood ran cold.
Aunt Vivian.
Nathaniel’s sister-in-law. The sweet, impeccably groomed socialite who lived in the guest wing on the opposite side of the estate, the woman who had brought over "welcome baskets" every single time a new nanny arrived, always wearing expensive perfume that smelled intensely of Bulgarian roses.
Nathaniel stepped back inside from the balcony, water dripping from his dark hair onto his shoulders, his face pale with a cold, terrifying fury.
"Nobody is out there," he said, his voice dangerously low. "The balcony drop is twenty feet straight down. No footprints except mine in the moss."
"She didn't jump, Mr. Grayson," I said, gently setting Maya down behind me and standing up to face him. "She went back into the interior corridor. Because Aunt Vivian’s suite connects directly to the north wing service stairs."
The silence in the nursery became absolute.
Toby, the older of the twin boys, stepped forward, his jaw set in a stubborn line that mirrored his father's. "She told us if we told anyone about the letters, she would send us away to a boarding school where we'd never see Daddy again. She said Daddy didn't want us anyway."
Nathaniel staggered backward half a step, as if he had been physically struck in the chest. The color drained entirely from his face. "Vivian..." he choked out. "Vivian helped plan the funeral. She cried on my shoulder every day for six months."
"Grief makes monsters out of people who were already broken, Mr. Grayson," I said softly, stepping toward the door. "And greed makes them patient."
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"Where are you going?" Nathaniel demanded, his hand shooting out to catch my wrist. His grip was firm, warm, and impossible to ignore.
"To find out what else Aunt Vivian has been hiding in her rose garden," I replied, pulling my wrist free with a gentle firmness. "Lock the children's door. Don't open it for anyone. Not even me."
