Chapter 1 - FOUR RED FINGER MARKS
Nicholas Caruso entered his own house at 7:18 p.m. and knew something was wrong before anyone spoke.
Arthur Bell stood beside the marble staircase.
The seventy-year-old butler had worked for the Caruso family since Nicholas was eleven.
Arthur did not fidget.
Tonight he was.
One hand kept adjusting the lower button of his formal jacket even though the button was already straight.
Maria Santos stood near the foyer doors.
Beside her was a suitcase.
Packed.
Nicholas looked at it.
Then at Maria.
Her dark hair was still pinned in the neat bun she wore while working.
Black-and-white uniform immaculate.
Eyes red.
Her hands were empty.
That mattered.
Maria was never empty-handed at this hour.
Usually a tray.
Fresh linens.
A clipboard from the kitchen.
Or Lucy.
“Maria?”
Her lips parted.
Before she could answer, something small and blue crossed the foyer.
“Uncle Nicholas!”
Lucy Santos ran directly into him.
Nicholas barely had time to brace before the three-year-old wrapped both arms around his right leg.
Her stuffed beige rabbit crushed between them.
Her sparkling blue-and-silver tiara had slipped sideways.
Tears covered her flushed cheeks.
Nicholas’s entire posture changed.
The men who worked for him knew that look.
Not softer exactly.
Focused differently.
He crouched.
“Hey.”
Lucy clung tighter.
“What happened?”
Her tiny voice broke.
“Uncle Nicholas, I only ate one cookie. Please don’t make me leave.”
Nicholas’s blue-gray eyes moved toward Maria.
She looked down.
Then toward Arthur.
The old man’s jaw tightened.
Finally toward the staircase.
Vivienne Hart stood halfway down it.
Deep-red satin gown.
Dark brunette hair arranged in the elegant updo she had worn to a charity dinner Nicholas had been expected to attend with her later that evening.
She looked beautiful.
Composed.
Annoyed.
Nicholas looked back at Lucy.
“Who told you you’re leaving?”
Lucy sniffed.
“The pretty lady.”
Vivienne came down two more steps.
“For God’s sake, Nicholas, she’s three. She doesn’t understand what happened.”
Nicholas did not look at her yet.
“Lucy.”
The child looked at him.
“Is anyone making you leave right now?”
Her lower lip shook.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m telling you.”
His voice remained quiet.
“No one is taking you anywhere until I understand what happened.”
She leaned closer.
That was when Nicholas saw her flinch.
His eyes sharpened.
“Lucy.”
“What?”
“Give me your hand.”
She hesitated.
Not because she feared him.
Because something hurt.
Nicholas’s stomach tightened.
He opened his palm.
Slowly, Lucy placed her left hand in his.
He turned it carefully.
Four red marks crossed the inside of her wrist.
Finger-shaped.
Fresh.
His face became completely still.
Maria covered her mouth.
She had apparently not seen them clearly before.
Arthur looked toward Vivienne.
Nicholas spoke softly.
“Who did this?”
Lucy’s eyes moved immediately toward the staircase.
Vivienne stiffened.
Nicholas noticed.
The child said nothing.
He waited.
No prompting.
No names.
No anger.
Just:
“You can tell me.”
Vivienne stepped forward.
“Nicholas, don’t be ridiculous.”
He still did not look at her.
Lucy’s fingers trembled in his palm.
Then Vivienne said:
“She was misbehaving.”
Nicholas finally raised his eyes.
Vivienne stopped.
His voice stayed calm.
“You touched her?”
“I stopped her.”
“From what?”
“Running around parts of the house she has no business entering.”
Maria spoke.
“She went to the breakfast room.”
Vivienne turned.
“You stay out of this.”
Nicholas’s gaze sharpened.
Maria immediately went quiet—not because he had told her to.
Because Vivienne had.
Nicholas rose slowly.
He moved Lucy behind his leg without pulling her.
The little girl accepted the position naturally.
Her bunny pressed against his trousers.
“Do not speak to Maria that way.”
Vivienne stared at him.
“She works here.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m going to be your wife.”
“Those facts do not create ownership of her.”
Arthur’s eyes shifted downward.
Vivienne’s cheeks colored.
“This is absurd. The child took food after being told not to. She ran into a private room. I caught her wrist before she knocked over a serving tray.”
Lucy peeked around Nicholas.
“The pretty lady grabbed me.”
Vivienne’s jaw tightened.
Nicholas looked at Lucy.
“How?”
Lucy reached around his leg with her free hand and squeezed her own wrist.
“Like this.”
Maria made a sound.
Nicholas gently lowered the child’s hand.
“You don't need to show me again.”
He turned toward Arthur.
“Did you see it?”
Arthur answered carefully.
“I saw Miss Hart holding Lucy by the wrist.”
“Did you see how hard?”
“No, sir.”
Good.
He would not make the witness larger than it was.
“Security cameras?”
Arthur looked toward Vivienne.
“Foyer and kitchen hall. Not the breakfast room.”
Nicholas nodded.
Then Maria’s suitcase.
“Why is that packed?”
Maria looked at Vivienne.
Nicholas saw fear.
Not fear of him.
Interesting.
“Maria.”
Her eyes moved back.
“Did you pack it?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Vivienne folded her arms.
“I told staff to gather her things.”
Silence.
Nicholas looked at her.
“You fired Maria.”
“I told her tonight should be her last night.”
“You fired someone in my house.”
“She allowed her child to wander through private rooms.”
Maria’s eyes filled.
“I was told Lucy could stay in the staff sitting room during my evening shift. Mrs. Donnelly was with her until—”
Vivienne interrupted.
“She took a cookie off a private tray after I specifically told her not to touch it.”
Nicholas looked at Lucy.
Three years old.
Tears.
Finger marks.
A cookie.
He looked back at Vivienne.
“What kind?”
She stared.
“What?”
“The cookie.”
“Nicholas.”
“What kind of cookie justified packing a woman and child’s suitcase before I came home?”
Vivienne exhaled sharply.
“It wasn’t about the cookie.”
There.
Nicholas had assumed that already.
He crouched again.
“Lucy, I need you to go upstairs with your mom and Arthur.”
Lucy immediately grabbed his jacket.
“No.”
“No?”
“You’ll make us leave.”
“No.”
“You promise?”
Nicholas glanced at Maria.
She looked stunned.
Then back at Lucy.
“I promise no one will make you leave tonight.”
The child studied him.
“Even the pretty lady?”
His eyes flicked toward Vivienne.
“Even the pretty lady.”
Lucy released him.
Arthur approached.
Nicholas said:
“Guest suite. East wing.”
Maria shook her head.
“Mr. Caruso, we can stay in staff—”
“Guest suite.”
Not punishment.
Security.
“Have Dr. Grant come look at Lucy’s wrist.”
Vivienne’s eyes sharpened.
“You're calling a doctor over finger marks?”
Nicholas looked at her.
“Yes.”
“No Moretti—”
Wrong story. Keep Caruso doctor? Could use independent pediatrician.
He corrected his own immediate instinct before giving the order.
“Not the family physician. Call Lenox Children’s urgent-care service. Someone independent.”
Arthur nodded.
“Of course.”
Maria looked at Nicholas.
“I don't want trouble.”
He held her gaze.
“You already have trouble.”
Her face tightened.
“I’m trying to determine whose.”
Then Lucy reached up.
Nicholas straightened her crooked tiara.
She whispered:
“I really only ate one.”
He almost smiled.
“I believe you.”
Arthur led them away.
Maria picked up no suitcase.
Nicholas noticed that too.
It remained in the foyer.
Packed by someone else.
When the three disappeared upstairs, he turned toward Vivienne.
She stood beneath the chandelier in red satin.
The woman he had planned to marry in twelve weeks.
“You and I are going to talk.”
Her eyes became cold.
“Finally.”
Nicholas glanced toward the security camera over the foyer arch.
Then toward the packed suitcase.
Then at the staircase Lucy had just climbed.
“No.”
His voice lowered.
May you like
“First I’m going to find out exactly what happened before I walked through that door.”
For the first time that evening, Vivienne Hart looked afraid.
