CHAP 3 — Blood on the Street
The triplets reached me before Richard did.
Ethan threw himself against my waist.
Noah grabbed my uniform skirt with both hands.
Liam climbed into my arms so desperately I dropped the suitcase handle and nearly fell backward.
All three were crying at once.
Their feet were bare. Their pajama sleeves were torn. Thin cuts marked their hands and forearms, bright red against pale skin.
Not deep.
But enough.
Enough to make my heart stop.
“Miss Emily!” Ethan sobbed. “She tried to lock us in the basement!”
“She made us bleed!” Noah screamed.
Liam buried his face in my neck and shook too hard to speak.
Richard slid to his knees on the asphalt in front of us.
“My God. Boys. What happened?”
He reached for Ethan.
Ethan slapped his hand away.
“Don’t!”
Richard froze.
That one word wounded him more than any accusation could have.
Noah clung tighter to my yellow glove.
“You sent Miss Emily away.”
Richard’s face collapsed.
“I didn’t know—”
“You didn’t listen!” Ethan screamed.
The neighborhood security guard came running from the corner station. Two residents stepped out of nearby houses, phones already in hand. In a place like Hawthorne Lane, people called police faster for cracked sprinklers than for screams.
Good.
Let them call.
I lowered Liam carefully onto my hip and checked the boys’ arms.
“How did you get out?”
Ethan hiccupped through tears.
“Basement window.”
“She locked the door,” Noah said. “She said if we told Daddy, nobody would believe bad boys.”
Liam finally lifted his head.
“She said Mommy was dead and you would be gone too.”
Richard looked like he might be sick.
I looked toward the mansion.
Victoria stood inside the open gate in her white designer dress, one hand at her throat, face arranged into horror.
Perfect horror.
Performed horror.
“Richard!” she called. “They ran from the playroom! I told them to wait!”
The boys screamed.
All three at once.
“No!”
My body moved before thought. I shifted in front of them, blocking her view.
“Stay back.”
Victoria’s face flickered.
“You have no right to speak to me. You were fired for stealing.”
Richard turned toward me then, still kneeling.
“Emily…”
His voice was broken.
Not enough.
Not yet.
I reached into my pocket with my yellow-gloved hand and pulled out my phone.
Victoria’s eyes locked onto it.
For the first time since I had met her, she looked truly afraid.
I tapped the recording.
Her voice came through sharp and clear.
“I planted the Rolex, Richard. Once the maid is gone, those brats are going to a boarding school overseas forever.”
The street went silent.
Victoria stepped backward.
Richard stood slowly.
The man rising from the asphalt was not the detached billionaire who had thrown me out.
He was a father finally hearing the truth after it had already hurt his children.
“Victoria,” he said.
She lifted both hands.
“Richard, that is edited.”
I pressed play again.
“The Rolex goes in the maid’s bag after breakfast. Richard will believe theft before he believes that woman over me.”
Richard’s face went white.
Then red.
Then something colder.
Two police cruisers turned onto Hawthorne Lane.
May you like
Victoria looked toward the gate.
Then ran.
