“Mr. Hawthorne, I swear to you, I have never stolen anything from this house.”
Victoria stepped closer to him, laying one manicured hand on his arm.
“Richard, I didn’t want to believe it either. But look at it. She had access to everything.”
Emily looked at him, waiting for the man she had served loyally for three years to ask one question. Just one.
Where was the camera footage?
Who had touched the bag?
Why would Emily steal something and leave it in plain sight?
But Richard asked nothing.
His pride had been wounded. His fiancée had been offended. And in his world, that was enough.
“Get out.”
The words struck Emily harder than a slap.
The boys began crying from the playroom doorway.
“Daddy, no!” Ethan shouted.
“Miss Emily didn’t do it!” Noah sobbed.
Liam tried to run to her, but Victoria caught his shoulder.
Richard did not even look at them.
“I said get out.”
Then he reached into his wallet, pulled out several hundred-dollar bills, and threw them toward Emily’s feet.
“For your trouble.”
Emily stared at the money scattered across the marble floor.
Then she looked at the boys.
All three were crying.
All three were reaching for her.
She left the money where it fell.
And she walked out with nothing but her suitcase, her uniform, and a breaking heart.
Now, twenty minutes later, she was almost at the main gate when a scream tore through the quiet street.
“MISS EMILY!”
Her entire body went rigid.
“MISS EMILY! PLEASE WAIT!”
Emily dropped the suitcase and spun around.
What she saw nearly stopped her heart.
The triplets were racing down the street toward her.
Barefoot.
Crying.
Terrified.
Their shirts were torn. Their faces were streaked with tears. And their arms were smeared with blood.
For one frozen second, Emily could not move.
Then her body took over.
She ran.
Cars slammed their brakes. A delivery van honked. Neighbors stepped out onto their manicured lawns, staring as three little boys darted into the road like frightened deer.
“Ethan! Noah! Liam!”
The boys crashed into her arms so hard she fell to her knees on the pavement.
They clung to her, shaking violently.
“Oh my God,” Emily whispered, pulling them against her. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”
“It’s not ours!” Ethan cried.
Emily looked down at the blood.
“What?”
“It’s Mrs. Patterson’s!” Noah sobbed.
Mrs. Patterson was the elderly nanny who came twice a week to help with the boys’ lessons.
Emily’s stomach turned cold.
Behind the children, Richard Hawthorne was running down the street.
Actually running.
His expensive shirt was untucked. His hair was disheveled. His face had lost every trace of power and control.
For the first time Emily had ever seen, Richard did not look like a billionaire.
He looked like a father who had just realized his money could not protect his children from the person inside his own house.
“Boys!” Richard shouted.
The triplets screamed and hid behind Emily.
Richard stopped dead.
That broke something in him.
His own sons were afraid to run toward him.
Emily wrapped both arms around them and looked up.
“What happened inside that house?”
Richard’s mouth opened, but no words came.
Liam, the quietest of the three, lifted one trembling hand and pointed toward the mansion.
“Victoria pushed Mrs. Patterson.”
The street went silent.
Emily felt her breath leave her body.
Richard’s face drained of color.
“What did you say?”
Ethan spoke through hiccuping sobs.
“She was yelling. Mrs. Patterson said she saw her put your watch in Miss Emily’s bag.”
Noah nodded fast, tears dripping from his chin.
“She said she was going to tell you.”
Liam pressed his face into Emily’s shoulder.
“Then Victoria pushed her. She fell. There was blood on the floor.”
Emily’s arms tightened around the boys.
Richard took one step backward like the ground had shifted beneath him.
“No,” he whispered.
But the boys were not finished.
Ethan wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“She said we were next.”
Richard went completely still.
Emily looked at him.
“What?”
Noah’s little voice broke.
“She said if we told, she would send us away where nobody could find us.”
That was the moment Richard Hawthorne’s world collapsed.
Not slowly.
