Chapter 2 - THE STAIRCASE
For several seconds, Nora could hear nothing except the old clock ticking at the end of the servants’ corridor.
Oliver stared at her.
His fingers remained locked around her wrist.
“Grandma made sure Mommy never came down,” he had whispered.
Nora had learned early in her career that the fastest way to lose a frightened child was to react too strongly when he finally spoke.
So she did not gasp.
She did not demand an explanation.
She did not run downstairs and accuse Beatrice Vale of murder.
She simply opened her bedroom door wider.
“Do you want to come inside?”
Oliver nodded.
Nora switched on the bedside lamp.
Oliver climbed onto the chair near the window and hugged the damaged rabbit against his chest.
His bare feet were dirty.
Not ordinary dirty.
Gray dust clung to his toes.
Nora looked down the hallway.
“Were you upstairs?”
Oliver’s face closed immediately.
She changed the question.
“Where did your rabbit lose his ear?”
He stroked the torn fabric.
“Benny.”
“His name is Benny?”
A nod.
“Did Benny get hurt?”
Another nod.
“Upstairs?”
Oliver looked toward the door.
Nora waited.
After nearly a minute, he whispered, “Bad room.”
Nora pulled the desk chair across from him but left several feet between them.
“What makes it bad?”
Oliver’s mouth tightened.
She could see the effort it took him to stay silent.
Someone had taught this child that speaking carried consequences.
Nora changed direction again.
“You don’t have to tell me tonight.”
His shoulders dropped slightly.
“But I need you to know something. I won’t take you anywhere you don’t want to go unless you’re in danger.”
Oliver studied her.
“What if Grandma says?”
“Your grandma isn’t your nanny.”
“What if Daddy says?”
That was harder.
Nora chose honesty.
“Your father is responsible for you. But if you tell me you’re frightened, I will listen before I do anything.”
Oliver lowered his eyes.
“Daddy didn’t listen to Mommy.”
There it was again.
A statement too specific to ignore.
“What didn’t he listen to?”
Oliver rubbed Benny’s surviving ear.
“She said she wanted to go.”
“Where?”
“Away.”
“From the house?”
He nodded.
“From your father?”
Oliver’s expression became confused, as though the distinction meant nothing to him.
Nora heard footsteps.
Oliver shot out of the chair.
“Hide!”
“Oliver—”
“Hide!”
He dove beneath Nora’s bed.
The door opened.
Agnes stood outside in a robe.
“Nora?”
“Yes?”
“I heard voices.”
Nora forced herself not to glance toward the bed.
“I was on the phone.”
“At two in the morning?”
“My sister works nights.”
Agnes studied her for a moment.
Then her gaze moved toward the floor.
Nora wondered whether she had seen Oliver’s feet.
“Be careful,” Agnes whispered.
“With what?”
Agnes hesitated.
“Trying to fix things in this house.”
Then she walked away.
Nora waited until the hallway went quiet.
Oliver crawled out.
“Why did you hide from Mrs. Bell?”
“Grandma asks her.”
“Asks her what?”
“Everything.”
That was the last thing Oliver said.
Nora returned him to his bedroom shortly before dawn.
He refused to use the main staircase.
Instead, he pulled her through the kitchen, through a service corridor, and up a narrow back stairwell hidden behind a pantry door.
His bedroom was enormous.
Toy shelves.
A miniature fire truck.
A ceiling painted with stars.
But the bed faced the door.
And there were two chairs wedged beneath the handle.
Nora stared at them.
“Who puts those there?”
Oliver did not answer.
The next morning, Adrian was waiting in the breakfast room.
“You were in Oliver’s room at four seventeen.”
Nora stopped.
He turned his tablet around.
Security footage showed her leaving the room.
“You monitor his bedroom?”
“The hallway.”
“All night?”
“This house has extensive security.”
“Apparently not enough to stop an accident on the staircase.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
“My wife’s death is not a subject for casual conversation.”
“Your son mentioned her.”
The change in him was immediate.
“What did he say?”
Nora pulled out a chair.
“Before I tell you, I need to understand what happened.”
Adrian remained standing.
“She fell.”
“From where?”
“The second-floor gallery.”
“Was Oliver there?”
“We believe so.”
“You believe?”
“He was found downstairs.”
“Did he see the fall?”
Adrian looked away.
“He stopped speaking for almost six months afterward.”
Nora watched him carefully.
“What did the police conclude?”
“Accident.”
“Was anyone else home?”
Adrian’s jaw flexed.
“My mother. Two staff members. Myself.”
“You were here?”
“In my office.”
“Did Evelyn fall alone?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
He looked directly at her.
“Because that is what happened.”
A door opened behind them.
Beatrice entered.
“Interrogating my son before coffee?”
Nora turned.
“I’m learning about Oliver.”
“You were hired to supervise him, not investigate our family.”
“His behavior is connected to the staircase.”
Beatrice sat at the head of the table.
“His behavior is connected to being spoiled.”
“He’s terrified.”
“He is manipulative.”
“He’s four.”
“He understands exactly what he’s doing.”
Nora looked at Adrian.
“Do you believe that?”
Adrian did not answer.
Beatrice buttered toast with careful, elegant movements.
“Evelyn indulged him. After she died, he became uncontrollable.”
Oliver appeared in the doorway.
The second he saw Beatrice, he stopped.
“Come eat,” she said.
He did not move.
Nora pulled out the chair beside hers.
“You can sit here.”
Oliver approached slowly.
Beatrice watched the interaction.
“You shouldn’t reward defiance.”
Nora ignored her.
Breakfast passed quietly until a gardener entered carrying paperwork.
“Mr. Vale, the contractor needs your signature regarding the upstairs renovation.”
Oliver’s spoon dropped.
Adrian frowned.
“What renovation?”
The gardener looked confused.
“Mrs. Vale ordered the west gallery wall opened.”
Beatrice’s hand stopped halfway to her cup.
Nora saw it.
Only for a second.
But she saw it.
Adrian turned toward his mother.
“What wall?”
Beatrice recovered.
“Water damage.”
“I approved no construction.”
“It was minor.”
Oliver began shaking.
Nora put her hand on the table near him without touching.
“It’s okay.”
The gardener shifted awkwardly.
“They found something inside.”
Nobody spoke.
“What?” Adrian asked.
“A little metal box.”
Beatrice stood so fast her chair scraped across the floor.
“I’ll handle it.”
Oliver screamed.
He shoved away from the table and ran.
Nora followed him into the foyer.
“Oliver!”
He headed for the front door, but Beatrice moved faster.
“Stop him!”
A guard near the entrance caught the child.
Oliver kicked violently.
“Let him go!” Nora shouted.
“He’ll run into the driveway,” Beatrice snapped.
Nora approached slowly.
Oliver’s face was purple from screaming.
“What’s in the box?” she asked.
His eyes found hers.
“What’s in the wall, Oliver?”
Beatrice stepped forward.
“Do not question him.”
Oliver suddenly went still.
He looked past Nora toward his grandmother.
Then he spoke in a small, trembling voice.
“Mommy’s phone.”
Adrian had followed them into the foyer.
“What?”
Oliver pointed upstairs.
“Grandma put Mommy’s phone in the wall.”
Adrian stared at his son.
Beatrice’s face remained perfectly controlled.
But for the first time since Nora entered the mansion, the billionaire’s mother looked afraid.
Adrian turned toward the staircase.
“Get me that box.”
Beatrice caught his arm.
“Adrian.”
He looked down at her hand.
“Let go.”
“There are things you don’t understand.”
“Then explain them.”
“You’re upsetting Oliver.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“You are.”
The gardener returned ten minutes later carrying a dust-covered metal case.
Beatrice’s face went white.
Adrian opened it.
Inside was a cracked cell phone wrapped in a silk scarf.
A scarf Nora had seen before.
In old photographs of Evelyn Vale.
Adrian stared at it.
“My wife’s phone was never recovered.”
Beatrice whispered, “Adrian, listen to me.”
He looked up.
“You told the police she must have taken it with her when she fell.”
“I was trying to protect this family.”
“From what?”
Beatrice’s eyes moved toward Oliver.
The boy buried his face against Nora.
Adrian followed her gaze.
And something terrible began to dawn on him.
“From whom?” he repeated.
Beatrice did not answer.
Adrian picked up the phone.
The screen was shattered.
“Call my security director.”
Beatrice’s calm finally broke.
“No!”
Everyone froze.
She straightened her dress.
Then she said more quietly, “That phone belongs to a dead woman. Whatever is on it will only cause pain.”
Nora held Oliver tighter.
Adrian stared at his mother.
“For eighteen months, my son has attacked anyone who approaches that staircase.”
May you like
He raised the phone between them.
“Tonight, we find out why.”
