Chapter 2 - The House With No Family Pictures
Claire had never ridden in a bulletproof SUV before.
She decided within six minutes that she hated it.
Not because it was uncomfortable.
The seats probably cost more than her annual rent.
She hated it because the doors locked automatically, two armed vehicles drove in front of them, another followed behind, and every time the convoy slowed Roman Vale’s eyes moved toward the windows.
The boys, meanwhile, behaved as though this were normal.
Theo was playing a game on a tablet.
Eli was arguing with Noah about whether penguins had knees.
Lucas sat beside Claire.
He had not released the sleeve of her coat.
Roman sat across from them.
“You can tell the driver my address,” Claire said.
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“I know.”
“Then perhaps you’re unfamiliar with the concept of kidnapping.”
Theo looked up.
“Dad doesn’t kidnap people.”
Eli shrugged.
“That we know about.”
“Eli.”
Roman’s voice made the boy return instantly to his tablet.
Claire stared at Roman.
“You really need to work on what your children overhear.”
“You have no idea.”
“I’m beginning to.”
Roman leaned forward.
“The man who called me knew what happened inside the tea shop before my security team reported it.”
“Harrison.”
“Yes.”
“He has someone watching your sons.”
“Yes.”
“Or watching you.”
“Yes.”
“And now me.”
Roman didn’t answer.
Which was an answer.
Claire looked out the window.
Chicago blurred past.
“I want to go home.”
“I’ll take you there once I know no one is waiting.”
“That could take how long?”
“An hour.”
“You said your father-in-law wants custody. Not a war.”
“With Harrison, there isn’t much difference.”
Noah removed one earbud.
“Grandpa says Dad stole us.”
Roman’s eyes shifted to him.
“He says Mom wanted us to live with him.”
A strange silence settled over the car.
Claire looked at Roman.
His face gave away nothing.
“How long has your wife been gone?”
“Three years.”
“I’m sorry.”
Roman looked toward the window.
“So am I.”
The convoy turned off Lake Shore Drive and entered a private lane beside an old stone building overlooking the water.
Claire expected a penthouse.
Instead, Roman Vale lived in what looked like an urban fortress disguised as a historic mansion.
The property occupied almost half a city block.
Tall limestone walls.
Iron gates.
Cameras hidden beneath carved balconies.
The kind of place where no package was ever left unattended.
The doors opened.
Mrs. Alvarez rushed down the front steps before anyone else could move.
“Oh, thank God.”
She was perhaps sixty, with silver-streaked hair and tears running freely down her face.
She hugged all four boys at once.
“Do you know what you did to me?”
“We left a note,” Eli said.
“A note?”
Mrs. Alvarez held up a crumpled napkin.
GONE FOR SNACKS.
“I nearly died.”
“We specified the purpose of the trip,” Theo said.
Mrs. Alvarez looked at Roman.
“I’m resigning.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am every Tuesday.”
“Then I’ll see you Wednesday.”
She kissed Lucas’s forehead.
Only afterward did she notice Claire.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh.”
Claire smiled awkwardly.
“Hello.”
Mrs. Alvarez looked from her to Roman.
Then to the boys.
Then back to Claire.
Noah helpfully explained.
“She was our mom for thirty seconds.”
Mrs. Alvarez blinked.
“I see.”
Claire doubted she did.
Inside, the mansion was warmer than Claire expected.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
There were toys beneath tables.
School backpacks stacked against a wall.
A half-built model airplane on an antique sideboard probably worth more than Claire’s entire apartment.
The boys’ shoes were scattered beside the entrance.
It looked lived in.
Except for one thing.
No family photographs.
Not one.
Claire noticed immediately.
Roman noticed her noticing.
“My wife hated photographs.”
“Really?”
“No.”
He removed his coat.
“I did.”
That answer surprised her.
“Why?”
“Pictures create targets.”
There it was again.
That world.
The one Claire had spent thirty-four years successfully avoiding.
A tall man in a navy suit approached.
“Mason Trent.”
Roman gestured toward him.
“Head of security.”
Mason nodded to Claire.
“We confirmed no one entered your apartment today.”
Claire stiffened.
“You checked my apartment?”
“Exterior surveillance only.”
“That sentence isn’t making me feel better.”
Roman ignored the protest.
“What about Burke?”
“Camera caught him getting into a white sedan two blocks from the tea shop. Plate belongs to Devereux Holdings.”
“Of course it does.”
“And the crashed sedan?”
“Stolen. Driver says someone forced him off the road before his brakes failed. Police are treating it as an accident for now.”
“For now?”
Claire looked between them.
Mason’s silence made her stomach tighten.
Roman turned to her.
“You need somewhere to stay tonight.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You’re remarkably committed to that word.”
“It has served women well for centuries.”
Mrs. Alvarez hid a smile.
Roman’s phone buzzed.
He checked the screen.
His expression darkened.
“What now?” Claire asked.
Roman turned the phone toward her.
It was a photograph.
Taken through the tea shop window.
Claire was leaning toward the boys.
Lucas’s hand was in hers.
Noah was smiling.
From the angle, they looked startlingly like a family.
Beneath the photo was a message.
COURT WILL LOVE THIS.
Claire felt cold.
“Who sent it?”
“Harrison.”
“And what exactly is he implying?”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“That I’m staging a replacement mother before the custody hearing.”
Claire laughed in disbelief.
“I met you forty-five minutes ago.”
“Facts have never troubled my father-in-law.”
“So tell the court.”
“I will.”
“When is the hearing?”
“Eleven days.”
Claire stared at him.
“That soon?”
“Harrison filed an emergency motion.”
“On what grounds?”
Roman’s gaze hardened.
“Criminal association. Emotional instability. Dangerous household. Lack of maternal influence.”
Claire glanced toward the boys.
They were now arguing over cookies.
“They look emotionally stable to me.”
“They are seven-year-old quadruplets who climbed into a stranger’s booth to fool a surveillance operative.”
“Fair.”
Roman crossed the room.
“Harrison has spent three years trying to take them.”
“Why?”
“He hated me before Amelia died.”
“Your wife.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“He believes her death proves he was right.”
Something in his tone made Claire look more closely.
“How did she die?”
Roman didn’t answer immediately.
“Car accident.”
Noah, across the room, went perfectly still.
Claire noticed.
Roman did too.
“Dad.”
Noah’s voice had changed.
“Don’t.”
Roman’s eyes softened.
“Okay.”
Claire understood enough to stop asking.
Mrs. Alvarez led the boys upstairs to wash.
Lucas looked back twice.
Claire pretended not to notice.
Roman waited until they disappeared.
Then he gestured toward the library.
“Five minutes.”
“I’m not signing anything.”
“You don’t know what I’m asking.”
“You’re a billionaire with armed employees. I assume it’s either paperwork or something illegal.”
Mason coughed.
Again.
Roman gave him a look.
Mason walked away.
The library doors closed.
Roman stood by the fireplace.
Claire remained near the exit.
“You lost your job.”
“Thank you for the reminder.”
“You need income.”
“Are you about to offer me hush money?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“A temporary position.”
Claire laughed.
Roman didn’t.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Mrs. Alvarez’s sister is having surgery. She was supposed to leave tomorrow for two weeks.”
“I’m not a nanny.”
“The boys don’t need a nanny.”
“Four seven-year-olds absolutely need a nanny.”
“They have tutors, drivers, security, house staff.”
“Then what do they need me for?”
Roman looked toward the ceiling.
Claire heard faint laughter upstairs.
“They need someone they trust.”
“We met an hour ago.”
“Lucas spoke to you.”
“So?”
Roman’s eyes returned to hers.
“My son has barely spoken to anyone outside this house in eighteen months.”
Claire stopped.
“He talks to his brothers. Occasionally to me. Mrs. Alvarez. His therapist.”
“What happened eighteen months ago?”
Roman’s mouth tightened.
“He remembered something.”
“About the accident?”
Roman said nothing.
Claire felt the pieces shifting.
“You want me here because Lucas talked.”
“I want you here because all four boys chose you when they were frightened.”
“That doesn’t qualify me to enter a custody battle.”
“No. But your employment would be legitimate. Temporary household chef and after-school supervisor.”
“I’m a pastry chef.”
“They consider frosting a food group.”
“That’s not a selling point.”
Roman walked to the desk.
“Two weeks. Five thousand dollars.”
Claire stared at him.
“What?”
“Ten.”
“Stop.”
“Fifteen.”
“I said stop.”
“Name a number.”
“This is exactly why rich people are unbearable.”
Roman looked genuinely confused.
“You need money. I need help.”
“I need a job, not to become evidence in your custody hearing.”
His expression shifted.
“Fair.”
Claire hadn’t expected that.
She picked up her bag.
“Take me home.”
Roman nodded.
Then the library door opened.
Lucas stood there.
Barefoot.
Holding a folded piece of paper.
“Lucas?” Roman asked.
The boy walked to Claire.
He pressed the paper into her hand.
Claire unfolded it.
A child’s drawing.
A black car.
Four little boys.
A woman in a blue dress.
A man in a gray coat.
The woman was lying beside the car.
Claire’s stomach twisted.
At the top of the page, in careful block letters, Lucas had written:
GRANDPA’S MAN WAS THERE.
Roman went white.
“Where did you get this?”
Lucas backed toward Claire.
Roman softened his voice.
“Buddy. Look at me.”
Lucas shook his head.
Claire crouched.
“Did you draw this?”
He nodded.
“Is this your mom?”
Another nod.
Roman came closer.
“Lucas, you told Dr. Klein you didn’t remember anything.”
The boy began trembling.
Claire looked at Roman.
“Back up.”
Roman did.
Immediately.
Claire pointed at the gray figure.
“Who is this?”
Lucas whispered one word.
“Burke.”
Roman’s face turned to stone.
Claire looked at the wrecked car.
“And when did you see him?”
Lucas’s eyes filled with tears.
“The night Mommy died.”
No one moved.
Then Lucas pointed at the black car.
May you like
His next words changed everything.
“Mommy wasn’t driving.”
