Chapter 1 - The Little Boy Everyone Called a Monster Handed Me a Button and Begged Me Not to Drink the Tea
Nineteen women had left Blackwood House before me.
I learned that number after I arrived.
At the gates, I knew only the salary.
Eight thousand dollars a month.
My mother's funeral had left me drowning.
I owed the funeral home six thousand dollars.
My landlord wanted two months of rent.
My bank balance was forty-three dollars.
So I ignored the armed guards.
I ignored the enormous stone walls.
And I ignored the officer's strange farewell.
"Good luck," he said.
I asked what he meant.
He only opened the gates.
The mansion looked like a museum.
White stone reflected the afternoon sunlight.
A fountain whispered beside the circular driveway.
Inside, marble stretched beneath crystal chandeliers.
I kept my shoes carefully on the runner.
A woman waited beside the grand staircase.
Eleanor Blackwood wore black from throat to heel.
Her smile never reached her eyes.
"You're young," she said.
"I'm twenty-six."
"The agency must be desperate."
Before I answered, another voice interrupted.
"Mother. That's enough."
Adrian Blackwood descended the staircase.
He looked exhausted beneath his immaculate suit.
I knew his face from business magazines.
Founder of Blackwood Aerospace.
Widower.
Father of a boy nobody could manage.
"Emma Carter?" he asked.
I nodded.
A crash thundered upstairs.
A woman screamed.
Then a nanny stumbled down the stairs.
Her collar was torn.
A scratch marked her cheek.
"I quit!" she shouted.
She passed me without stopping.
"That child is a monster!"
Eleanor folded her hands.
"Noah needs discipline."
A little boy appeared above us.
Curly hair.
Bare feet.
Black suspenders hanging from his shoulders.
He gripped the railing with both hands.
"Come down," Eleanor ordered.
His face lost all its color.
I watched his shoulders rise.
He wasn't preparing to attack.
He was preparing to run.
When Eleanor approached, he threw a figurine.
Bronze struck marble.
Everyone ducked.
Noah vanished upstairs.
"You see?" Eleanor whispered.
Adrian stared at the broken statue.
He looked less angry than defeated.
That evening, he explained the rules.
Meals at six.
Bath at seven.
Bed at eight.
No access to his office.
No walks without security.
Never enter the locked east wing.
I asked why.
"Because I said so," he replied.
I recognized that tone.
It ended conversations without answering them.
At seven fifteen, I found Noah beneath his bed.
I sat on the carpet.
"I'm not dragging you out," I said.
I placed a sandwich near the bedframe.
He watched my hands.
"Are you leaving?" he whispered.
"Not tonight."
He crawled forward an inch.
"Grandma says I'm bad."
"I don't think you're bad."
"You will."
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Noah disappeared beneath the mattress.
Eleanor looked into the room.
"Don't reward his theatrics," she said.
I waited until she left.
Then Noah crept out again.
His fingers trembled around his blanket.
"She comes after Daddy sleeps," he whispered.
"Who does?"
"The other lady."
He reached beneath his pillow.
Something cold landed in my palm.
A broken silver button.
"Please don't drink the tea."
I looked toward the empty doorway.
"What tea, Noah?"
He swallowed hard.
"That's how they make the nannies sleep."
May you like
Then a woman's shadow crossed the hallway.
And Noah stopped breathing.
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