Riley begged for forgiveness, promised she would practice tomorrow, but Vanessa told her that in this house, mistakes had a price. Then the lights went out, and in the dark there was only the sound of a little girl crying and the sea wind slipping under the door.
Two weeks later Michael came home early and sensed something wrong before anyone spoke. The house smelled faintly of disinfectant, a smell he hated because it made home feel like a clinic. Mrs. Evelyn admitted Riley had missed school and now trembled whenever she heard heels on the floor.
Michael found his daughter pale, feverish, and frightened under the covers. He touched her forehead, realized she was burning up, and decided immediately that she needed someone dedicated just to her care. Two days later, Emma Brooks arrived—a twenty-seven-year-old woman with tied-back brown hair, a quiet manner, and experience helping traumatized children.
Vanessa inspected her from head to toe and said they needed a nanny, not a psychologist. Emma calmly replied that some children did not need instruction first. They needed someone willing to sit quietly beside them. Michael heard the truth in that and hired her on the spot.