Chapter four

Rowena’s POV

"Your background check is spotless, Miss Rowena, but you lack formal childcare experience," the head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, said. She handed my papers back across the desk.

I adjusted my thick-rimmed glasses. "I learn fast, ma'am."

"We need more than a fast learner," she sighed. "We need a miracle."

"I can be a miracle," I answered quickly.

It had been exactly seven days since I walked out of the club. I spent every waking minute erasing my tracks. I moved out of the old cheap apartment. I bought a burner phone. I scrubbed off every trace of heavy stage makeup. I desperately needed a job to survive without the club's money. Today, I traded my crimson silk for a modest, high-collared black dress.

"The child is difficult," Mrs. Gable warned me. "She chased away six nannies in three months."

"Why did they leave?" I asked.

"She refused to speak to them," Mrs. Gable explained. "She throws their toys away. She locks them out of her room."

"I can handle difficult," I promised.

"We will see," she stood up. "Follow me."

We walked down a long hallway. We entered a massive, sunlit living room in the wealthiest part of the city. Clara sat on a large rug. She was a fiercely intelligent, guarded five-year-old girl. She silently stared at a complex wooden puzzle.

"Clara, this is Rowena," Mrs. Gable introduced me. "She is here to interview."

Clara didn't look up. "Send her away."

"Clara, be polite," Mrs. Gable scolded gently.

"I don't need a nanny," the little girl argued. "They are all boring."

"She won't even look at you," Mrs. Gable whispered to me. "I'm sorry."

"Give me a minute," I told the housekeeper.

I didn't treat her like a baby. I had a secret weapon. I remembered a very specific detail from chapter twenty of the book. I walked over and sat directly on the floor near her. I kept a respectful distance.

"You are putting that piece in the wrong spot," I told her casually.

"Excuse me?" Clara snapped her head up. She glared at me.

"The structural design is flawed," I pointed to the edge of the puzzle. "If you force that piece there, the bridge will collapse when you add the top tower."

Clara stared at me. She looked shocked. "How do you know that?"

"Try the arched piece instead," I suggested.

"The nannies always tell me to look at the colors," she muttered.

"Colors don't hold up a bridge," I replied simply. "Architecture does."

She hesitated. Then she picked up the arched piece and slid it into place. It fit perfectly. A bright, genuine smile broke across her small face.

"You fixed it!" Clara cheered.

"You just needed a fresh set of eyes," I smiled back.

"Look at this drawing I made," she quickly grabbed a piece of paper from the table. "Do you like it?"

"Let me see," I leaned closer. "Is that a dragon?"

"Yes!" she laughed. "The last nanny said girls shouldn't draw monsters."

"The last nanny was wrong," I told her. "Dragons are awesome."

Within twenty minutes, she laughed and showed me all her drawings. Mrs. Gable stood by the door. She looked stunned.

"I don't believe it," Mrs. Gable whispered. "She actually likes you."

"I like her too," I said.

"You have the job," Mrs. Gable announced right there. "I will hand you the schedule now. I can show you around the quiet estate while she plays."

"Thank you," I breathed out.

A few hours later, I stood in the sunny kitchen. I held a warm cup of tea in my hands. An overwhelming sense of victory washed over my mind.

I did it. I successfully escaped the twisted plot of the underground club. I found a safe, respectable job in a quiet house. I was miles away from Arlo Kensington and Cressida. I was safe.

"Would you like some sugar for your tea?" Mrs. Gable asked.

"No, thank you," I smiled. "It's perfect."

Just as I took a sip of my tea, the heavy oak front doors swung open with a loud thud.

Deep, heavy footsteps echoed against the marble floors of the foyer.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"The master of the house just returned," Mrs. Gable smiled.

I froze in the kitchen. Clara dropped her toys on the rug. She ran out into the hallway.

"Daddy!" she yelled happily.

"Daddy, you came home early!" she cheered. "Come meet my new nanny!"

My hands started shaking. The teacup slipped from my fingers. It hit the kitchen tiles and shattered into pieces. Hot tea splashed on my black shoes.

"Oh dear, let me clean that up," Mrs. Gable said quickly.

I couldn't hear her. My pulse took a sudden halt. I slowly walked out into the foyer. My lungs felt tight.

Standing there, loosening his expensive silk tie, was the master of the house.

Arlo Kensington.

He slowly looked up from his daughter. His dark, obsessive eyes locked onto my face.