Chapter 3 - The Gift of Normalcy
Three days passed in a peaceful blur at the Anderson estate.
For Sarah, the transition from constant, edge-of-your-seat survival to total safety was overwhelmingly bizarre.
In the mornings, Mrs. Reynolds—a kind, plump woman who served as the estate’s housekeeper—prepared magnificent breakfasts. In the afternoons, Tommy played in the vast indoor playroom, surrounded by wooden blocks, remote-controlled cars, and art supplies that Richard had ordered by the truckload.
On Tuesday afternoon, a high-end clothing boutique representative arrived at the estate with racks of clothes in every size.
Sarah stood in her vast guest bedroom, watching as Mrs. Reynolds hung up warm wool coats, soft cashmere sweaters, leather boots, and elegant dresses in the walk-in closet.
"Mr. Anderson said you should pick whatever makes you feel comfortable, dear," Mrs. Reynolds said gently, smoothing down a burgundy winter coat. "He noticed you like dark green and gray."
Sarah stood near the foot of the bed, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "He's spending too much money on us, Mrs. Reynolds. Clothes, toys, gourmet food... we aren't his family."
Mrs. Reynolds stopped her work, turning around to face the young girl. Her expression was filled with maternal warmth.
"Sarah," Mrs. Reynolds said softly, walking over and placing her hands gently on Sarah's shoulders. "Do you know what this house sounded like for six years before you two arrived?"
Sarah shook her head slowly.
"It sounded like a museum," Mrs. Reynolds whispered. "Quiet. Empty. Cold. Mr. Anderson works sixteen hours a day because when he stops working, he comes back to a home with no family, no laughter, no life. Yesterday afternoon, I saw him standing in the hallway, watching Tommy build a giant train track through the living room. For the first time since I started working here seven years ago, I saw Richard Anderson truly smile."
Sarah looked down at her polished shoes—a pair of sturdy, comfortable boots Richard had bought for her.
"I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop," Sarah admitted, her voice barely audible. "Every time things got good with my mom, Marcus would show up and ruin it. He’d break the furniture, take her money, and leave us with nothing. I can't let my guard down, Mrs. Reynolds. If I do, Tommy gets hurt."
Before Mrs. Reynolds could answer, a soft knock echoed at the bedroom door.
Richard stepped into the room, holding two thick, leather-bound portfolios. He was dressed casually in a charcoal turtleneck and slacks.
"Sarah, do you have a moment?" Richard asked politely.
Mrs. Reynolds gave Sarah a gentle nod and excused herself from the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Richard walked over to the small sitting area near the window and sat down in one of the velvet armchairs. He gestured for Sarah to join him.
Sarah walked over and sat on the edge of the opposite armchair, her posture straight as an arrow.
"I spoke with the principal of St. Jude's Academy this morning," Richard began, opening the first portfolio. "It's a private school four miles from here. Small classes, exceptional security, and a top-tier art program. I’ve arranged for Tommy to enter their kindergarten class on Monday, and you can join the seventh-grade honors track."
Sarah’s eyes widened. "St. Jude's? That's... that's where the city's wealthiest kids go."
"It's where you will be safe, educated, and cared for," Richard corrected smoothly. "I also spoke with Dr. Aris, a pediatric trauma specialist. She’s going to visit the estate twice a week to help Tommy work through his anxiety."
Sarah looked at the documents, her heart racing. "Richard... why are you doing all of this? The legal team, the private guards, the school tuition... it must cost thousands of dollars."
Richard closed the portfolio, leaning forward, his gray eyes locking onto hers with unwavering warmth.
"Because you spent the last two years being an adult, Sarah," Richard said softly. "You spent your childhood protecting your brother, managing your mother's medicine, and hiding from a monster. You served your time in the dark. Now, it's my turn to take the burden off your shoulders. I want you to just be twelve years old."
Tears pricked at the corners of Sarah’s eyes, but before she could speak, the harsh, blaring alarm of the estate's security system shattered the quiet house.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! PERIMETER BREACH AT MAIN GATE. PERIMETER BREACH AT MAIN GATE.
Richard stood up instantly, his relaxed composure vanishing, replaced by cold, decisive authority. He pulled a small radio from his belt.
"Security, report," Richard commanded into the device.
May you like
"Mr. Anderson," the security chief’s voice crackled through the radio speaker. "We have an individual at the main gate. He drove an unregistered vehicle directly into the intercom barrier. He's shouting, screaming for the children, and claims he has a police escort."
Sarah stood up, her face turning pale as ice. "It's Marcus," she whispered, her body trembling uncontrollably. "He found us."
