Chapter 2 - THE WEST HALLWAYDominic was moving before anyone else reacted.
“Marcus.”
One of his security men straightened.
“Sir?”
“Seal the house.”
Eleanor stared at her son.
“Dominic, don’t be absurd.”
“Nobody leaves.”
“Over what? The confused words of a hysterical child?”
Dominic turned.
His expression made even his mother fall silent.
“My son just pointed toward a section of my house and called it the bad room.”
“He’s four.”
“Exactly.”
Dominic climbed the stairs.
Two security men followed.
Hannah remained below with Oliver clinging to her dress.
The child had stopped screaming.
That disturbed Hannah more than the screaming had.
He looked exhausted.
Not the exhaustion of a child after a tantrum.
The exhaustion of someone who had finally done something terrifying.
Eleanor approached.
“Give him to me.”
Oliver tightened his grip.
Hannah instinctively put one hand against his back.
“He doesn’t seem ready.”
Eleanor’s eyes sharpened.
“You are housekeeping staff.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You have no authority here.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then give me my grandson.”
Oliver whispered something.
Hannah bent lower.
“What?”
“Don’t.”
Her heart contracted.
“I won’t.”
Eleanor heard.
Her face changed.
Only slightly.
But Hannah saw it.
“So now a maid overrides his grandmother?”
Hannah stood straighter.
“No. Oliver does.”
Nobody in the staff spoke.
Eleanor Vale was not a woman people challenged.
Before she could respond, Dominic’s voice thundered from upstairs.
“Who has the key?”
Everyone looked upward.
He stood at the entrance of the west corridor.
Beyond him was a white door.
Locked.
The west nursery wing had once belonged to Oliver’s mother, Caroline. After Caroline died in a car accident, Dominic had ordered most of it closed.
At least that was what Hannah had been told.
The head housekeeper, Mrs. Finch, hurried forward.
“That wing is supposed to be unused.”
Dominic pointed toward the lock.
“So why is this new?”
Mrs. Finch went pale.
“I don’t know.”
One security guard inspected it.
“Electronic keypad.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Open it.”
“Sir, I can—”
“Open it.”
The guard used a tool from his belt.
Eleanor reached the landing.
“Dominic, this is becoming theatrical.”
He ignored her.
Hannah watched Oliver.
The closer Dominic came to opening that door, the tighter Oliver held her.
Then she noticed something else.
A man stood at the far end of the upstairs corridor.
Dr. Adrian Keller.
Oliver’s child behavioral specialist.
He had arrived forty minutes earlier for his scheduled appointment.
Handsome, polished, early forties.
Hannah had seen him six times since joining the staff.
Dr. Keller was supposedly the only professional Oliver tolerated for more than a few minutes.
Now he stood perfectly still.
“What’s happening?” he called.
Oliver saw him.
His entire body stiffened.
Hannah felt it.
Dr. Keller began walking toward them.
Oliver made a choking noise.
“No.”
Hannah looked down.
The boy was staring at Keller.
“No.”
Dr. Keller stopped.
Dominic turned.
For the first time, father and son seemed to notice the same thing at once.
“Oliver?” Dominic said carefully.
The boy buried himself behind Hannah.
Keller smiled.
A professional, reassuring smile.
“He’s overstimulated. Mr. Vale, I strongly suggest we reduce the number of people present.”
Dominic stared at him.
“Why is he afraid of you?”
“He isn’t.”
The answer came too fast.
Keller adjusted his cuff.
“Oliver associates me with boundaries. Children with oppositional behavioral patterns frequently project—”
“Oliver.”
Dominic’s voice was gentle now.
It was almost strange coming from him.
“Is Dr. Keller part of the bad room?”
Oliver wouldn’t look up.
Keller exhaled.
“This is precisely what I’m talking about. Leading questions can create false memories in preschool-aged children.”
Hannah knew little about child psychology.
But she knew fear.
Her mother had married three times before Hannah turned sixteen.
Her second stepfather had never struck Hannah.
Not once.
But Hannah remembered the sound of his truck pulling into the driveway.
The way her stomach knotted.
The way she learned which floorboards didn’t creak.
Fear left fingerprints even when violence didn’t.
Oliver was covered in them.
The electronic lock clicked.
The security guard opened the door.
A dark hallway appeared.
Dominic entered.
Lights switched on.
The rooms looked almost empty.
Old furniture covered with white cloth.
Boxes stacked against walls.
Dust.
Nothing obviously frightening.
Dr. Keller gave a small laugh.
“There. Can we stop frightening Oliver now?”
But Dominic kept walking.
At the end of the hall stood another door.
Smaller.
No window.
Another keypad.
Dominic looked back.
“What is that?”
Mrs. Finch whispered, “That used to be Caroline’s dressing room.”
Dominic approached.
There were scratches low on the door.
Tiny scratches.
At the height of a four-year-old child.
Dominic stared.
The room seemed to tilt beneath him.
He touched one scratch with his fingertips.
Then another.
Behind him, Adrian Keller said quietly, “Dominic.”
It was the first time Hannah had heard him use the billionaire’s first name.
“I can explain.”
Dominic turned slowly.
Nobody moved.
“Then explain why there are scratch marks on the inside of a locked room my son calls the bad room.”
Keller’s face drained.
And Oliver began to cry.
Not scream.
Cry.
Quietly.
Hannah lifted him.
He wrapped both arms around her neck.
Then he whispered into her ear.
“Blue light.”
“What blue light?”
“The camera.”
Hannah’s blood went cold.
She looked toward Dominic.
“There’s a camera.”
The security team entered the room.
Thirty seconds later, Marcus emerged holding something the size of a coin.
“Sir.”
A tiny lens sat in his palm.
Dominic looked at Keller.
Keller took one backward step.
Marcus blocked him.
“Stay where you are.”
Keller raised his hands.
“Everybody is making a catastrophic mistake.”
Dominic walked toward him.
“What happened in that room?”
“Therapy.”
“My son was locked inside?”
“It was controlled separation.”
“For how long?”
Keller hesitated.
Dominic’s voice dropped.
“For how long?”
“Short intervals.”
Oliver suddenly lifted his head.
“Dark.”
Everyone turned.
“Dark a long time.”
Dominic’s face went completely still.
And Hannah understood something dangerous.
The billionaire wasn’t calm.
He was furious beyond shouting.
Keller recognized it too.
He quickly said, “I followed a behavioral protocol approved by—”
He stopped.
Dominic caught the unfinished sentence.
“Approved by whom?”
Keller said nothing.
Dominic looked around.
His mother.
The staff.
Security.
Then back at Keller.
“Who authorized you to lock my son in that room?”
Keller’s silence answered before his mouth did.
But Oliver answered too.
He pointed.
Not at Keller.
May you like
At Eleanor.
“Grandma.”
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