Chapter 3 - THE FIFTEENTH WOMAN
I did not tell Leah about the call.
I told Matteo.
That decision took me exactly three seconds.
Not because I trusted him completely.
Because someone had just threatened me inside his daughter’s home, and secrecy was beginning to look like the disease that had built the entire situation.
Matteo returned to the living room calmer.
Not calm.
Calmer.
I handed him my phone.
He listened to the voicemail copy Marcus—his security chief, not a driver—had already extracted from the network.
The caller had used a masked number.
Voice altered slightly.
But not enough.
Matteo listened twice.
Then looked at me.
“You’re leaving.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“That was not a suggestion.”
“Then we are already repeating the problem.”
“Nora.”
“If somebody has scared fourteen women out of this house, and now they’re threatening number fifteen, me leaving is what they want.”
“I don’t care what they want.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because Leah lives here.”
That stopped him.
I lowered my voice.
“You can replace me tomorrow.”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Something shifted between us.
Not romance.
Recognition.
He heard himself.
So did I.
He corrected:
“I mean I don’t intend to keep cycling strangers through her life.”
“Good.”
“Which is why you leave until this is secure.”
“That is not the same as quitting.”
“No.”
“Then say that.”
He stared.
“Leave for the night.”
“Better.”
“I’ll provide a secure hotel.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
I raised a hand.
“I will stay with my mother.”
“The hospital.”
I stared.
“How do you know she’s admitted?”
He looked annoyed at himself.
“Background.”
“Your background checks are becoming a personality flaw.”
He almost smiled.
“Which hospital?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Nora.”
“No.”
He exhaled through his nose.
“Fine.”
Progress.
I looked at Leah.
She sat on the rug with a stuffed dinosaur Rosa had found somewhere.
“Who stays with her?”
“Me.”
That surprised me.
“You?”
His eyes narrowed.
“I am her father.”
“I know. I’m checking because your schedule looks like a hostile takeover in human form.”
“I canceled everything.”
I blinked.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
That mattered.
I crouched beside Leah.
“I’m going to leave for a little while.”
Her face changed instantly.
“No.”
“I’m coming back tomorrow.”
“No.”
She grabbed my sleeve.
“Stay.”
My heart broke a little.
This was why rotating caregivers were dangerous when a child already expected abandonment.
I looked at Matteo.
He understood too.
I turned back.
“Do you want to make a plan?”
Leah stared.
“I will leave after dinner.”
“No.”
“I will come back after breakfast.”
She shook her head.
“What if Daddy shows you the clock?”
Matteo raised an eyebrow.
I pointed to the large wall clock.
“When the little hand gets to nine tomorrow, I come back.”
Leah looked at the clock.
Then at me.
“Promise?”
I hesitated.
Children remembered broken promises with frightening precision.
“Yes.”
A small nod.
Then she held up the dinosaur.
“Dino stay.”
“You want him to stay with you?”
She pushed it into my hands.
“No. You.”
My throat tightened.
She was giving me collateral.
A guarantee I had to return.
I took it.
“Okay.”
Matteo watched.
His eyes had changed.
At six, I left.
Marcus walked me to the service elevator.
He was forty-something, built like a man who had never trusted chairs, with the weary patience of someone who had worked for Matteo too long.
“You really told him to go away?”
“Yes.”
Marcus nodded.
“I like you.”
“That seems premature.”
“Everyone else apologizes when he’s unreasonable.”
“Does it help?”
“No.”
“Then I’m saving time.”
He almost laughed.
The elevator doors opened.
Before I stepped in, Marcus said:
“Bell hired most of the nannies.”
“I know.”
His expression sharpened.
“How?”
“Rosa.”
He nodded.
“I reviewed departures.”
“And?”
“Fourteen women. Nine officially resigned.”
“What about the other five?”
“Agency marked placements terminated by household request.”
“Who made the requests?”
“Bell.”
My stomach tightened.
“Reasons?”
“Poor fit.”
“That phrase means nothing.”
“I know.”
“Can we contact them?”
“Already doing it.”
I looked at him.
“You’re faster than Matteo.”
“Do not tell him.”
The doors closed.
My mother was not in the hospital that night.
Matteo’s background file was already outdated.
She had been discharged to a small rehabilitation center in Queens that morning because insurance refused another inpatient day.
I took the subway.
Partly because it was cheap.
Partly because after twelve hours in a penthouse with private elevators and men issuing orders into phones, I needed something ordinary.
People pushed.
Someone ate fries from a paper bag.
A teenager slept against the window.
No one knew who Matteo Duca was.
Or if they did, they did not care.
I liked that.
My mother, Evelyn Hale, was awake when I arrived.
She looked smaller every week.
Cancer did that.
Not only to bodies.
To rooms.
To conversations.
Everything reorganized itself around what the illness allowed.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Love you too.”
“New job?”
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
“A child hit me with a train.”
Mom blinked.
“Real train?”
“Wooden.”
“Oh.”
She considered.
“That is less dramatic.”
“Thank you.”
I sat beside her.
She noticed the stuffed dinosaur.
“What’s that?”
“Collateral.”
“Nora.”
“What?”
“You have that look.”
“What look?”
“The one you had when you brought home the injured pigeon at eleven.”
“It survived.”
“It attacked the curtains.”
“Trauma response.”
Mom smiled weakly.
Then coughed.
I hated the cough.
The effort afterward.
The way she pretended not to see me noticing.
My phone buzzed.
Pharmacy.
Final notice.
I silenced it.
Mom saw.
“Don’t pay the injection bill.”
“We’re not discussing that.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
“You’re going to bankrupt yourself keeping me alive.”
The words were too blunt.
I looked away.
She softened.
“Honey.”
“No.”
“I need you to hear me.”
“I hear you constantly.”
“That is not the same as listening.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently everyone is educating me today.”
She looked at the dinosaur.
“Tell me about the little girl.”
So I did.
Not names at first.
Confidentiality mattered.
But Mom had a way of hearing around details.
“She’s afraid of a room,” I said.
“What happened there?”
“I don’t know.”
“You think somebody hurt her?”
“I think somebody taught her that fear keeps adults manageable.”
Mom’s expression changed.
“That sounds specific.”
“It is.”
She touched my hand.
“Be careful.”
“Everyone says that when they want women to leave complicated situations.”
“I mean actually be careful.”
“I know.”
My phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered.
“We found one of the previous caregivers.”
“Which?”
“Number eleven. Her name is Camila Ross.”
“What did she say?”
“She didn’t quit because of Leah.”
My pulse changed.
“Why did she leave?”
“Bell accused her of stealing.”
“Did she?”
“No charges were filed. No property was found.”
“What happened before the accusation?”
Marcus paused.
“She found a camera.”
I went still.
“Where?”
“Inside Leah’s bedroom.”
My stomach dropped.
“A security camera?”
“No.”
“What kind?”
“Hidden.”
Cold moved through me.
“Did Matteo know?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I just told him.”
“How did he react?”
Marcus exhaled.
“Expensively.”
I could imagine.
“What did Camila do with the camera?”
“Gave it to Bell.”
Of course.
“And then she was fired.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“She heard Elena arguing with Bell months before her death.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“About what?”
“She only heard one line clearly.”
“What?”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Elena said, ‘You do not get to decide what Matteo knows.’”
I looked at Mom.
She could not hear the call.
Good.
“Bell was controlling information.”
“Looks that way.”
“Where is he now?”
“We found his car.”
“Where?”
“Parking garage in Brooklyn.”
“Bell?”
“Gone.”
I stood.
Mom frowned.
“What happened?”
I held up one finger.
To Marcus:
“Any connection to the blue room?”
“Not yet.”
“Check medical staff.”
“Already started.”
“Check Elena’s psychiatrist.”
A pause.
“Nora.”
“What?”
“You’re the nanny.”
“I noticed.”
“This is security work.”
“No.”
I looked at my mother.
“This is pattern recognition.”
He sighed.
“I understand why the boss likes you.”
My pulse betrayed me.
“He does not like me.”
“Sure.”
“Marcus.”
“Good night.”
He hung up.
I stared at the phone.
Mom smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was a man.”
“That was security.”
“Even worse.”
“Please be sick quietly.”
She laughed until it turned into coughing.
I hated myself for making her laugh.
Then loved it.
At eight forty the next morning, I arrived at the penthouse.
Twenty minutes before my promise.
Leah was sitting in the foyer.
Waiting.
The moment she saw me, she stood.
The dinosaur was in my hand.
I held it up.
“Returned.”
She ran toward me.
Stopped two feet away.
Then looked at Matteo.
He was sitting on the floor behind her.
Not standing.
Not looming.
On the floor.
He said softly:
“You can hug her if you want.”
Leah looked at me.
“Can I?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
She launched herself into my arms.
I held her.
Matteo looked away.
Giving us privacy.
Or hiding emotion.
Both.
When Leah pulled back, she touched the dinosaur.
“You come back.”
“I said I would.”
She nodded as if adding the information to a new category.
Adults who return.
Then she looked at Matteo.
“Daddy stay too.”
His face changed.
“I’m staying.”
She considered.
“Promise?”
Matteo swallowed.
“Yes.”
He meant more than breakfast.
We both knew it.
Later, while Leah ate cereal, Matteo showed me the hidden camera Camila described.
Or rather, the place where it had been.
A tiny hole behind a wall vent in Leah’s bedroom.
Wiring had been removed.
“When was the room renovated?” I asked.
“Six months before Elena died.”
“Who supervised contractors?”
“Bell.”
“Of course.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“There were background checks.”
“Through who?”
He looked at me.
“Bell.”
I folded my arms.
“That man had too much authority.”
“My father trusted him.”
“There’s the sentence.”
“What?”
“Every family has one.”
He almost smiled.
Then I noticed something.
The vent faced Leah’s bed.
Not the door.
Not the window.
The bed.
“Matteo.”
“What?”
“This wasn’t household security.”
“I know.”
“Someone wanted to watch her sleep.”
His face became cold.
We searched with a professional team.
Every room.
Every vent.
Every smoke detector.
They found three old mounting points where cameras had been removed.
Leah’s bedroom.
Playroom.
And the blue room.
My stomach tightened.
“What was the blue room before Elena used it?” I asked.
Matteo answered:
“A sitting room.”
“Why would it need surveillance?”
“It wouldn’t.”
“Did Elena know?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she think was happening?”
Matteo frowned.
“What?”
“You said she believed someone wanted to take Leah.”
“Yes.”
“What if that wasn’t paranoia?”
The room became silent.
Matteo stared.
I continued.
“What if she discovered someone watching Leah?”
His face changed slowly.
“Elena told me there were cameras.”
My breath caught.
“When?”
“Months before she died.”
“And?”
“I had security sweep the residence.”
“Who ran the sweep?”
He closed his eyes.
“Bell.”
There it was.
The entire tragedy might have been filtered through one man.
I felt sick.
“What did Bell tell you?”
“No cameras.”
“And what did you tell Elena?”
“That the sweep was clean.”
“How did she react?”
Matteo looked like he hated himself.
“She said I believed everyone except her.”
My chest tightened.
The blue room became something else.
Not only a site of breakdown.
Maybe the one place Elena thought she could hide.
“She barricaded herself with Leah because she believed somebody was coming.”
“Yes.”
“And Bell controlled security.”
Matteo’s face turned hard.
I looked at him.
“You need to find out what Elena knew.”
“How?”
“Her doctor.”
“Records are private.”
“You were her husband.”
“Not all psychiatric notes are released automatically.”
“Then ask the doctor.”
Matteo took out his phone.
Before he dialed, Leah appeared in the doorway holding a crayon drawing.
Three people.
A tall man.
A little girl.
A woman.
And another man colored entirely black.
I crouched.
“Who’s this?”
I pointed to the tall man.
“Daddy.”
The girl.
“Me.”
The woman.
“Mommy.”
Then the black figure.
Leah’s face changed.
“Arthur.”
Matteo went still.
“What is Arthur doing?”
I asked.
Leah pointed to the drawing.
Arthur stood beside a small blue square.
A door.
“He watch.”
Cold moved through me.
“What does he watch?”
Leah looked toward her bedroom.
“Sleep.”
Matteo swore quietly.
I asked:
“Did Arthur have a camera?”
Leah did not understand.
I mimed holding a phone.
“Did he take pictures?”
She shook her head.
Then covered one eye with her hand.
“Little eye.”
The camera.
Matteo turned away, furious.
I touched his arm.
He looked at my hand.
I removed it immediately.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
His voice changed.
“It’s okay.”
Our eyes met for one second too long.
Then Leah said:
“Mommy broke eye.”
We both turned.
“Your mommy broke the little eye?”
Leah nodded.
“With train.”
I looked at the wooden train.
The same heavy toy she threw at me on my first day.
My heart started pounding.
“Elena used that train?”
Leah nodded.
“Bang.”
Matteo stared at the toy.
Then at me.
A memory had become a behavior.
Leah was not simply attacking caregivers.
She was reenacting something.
Maybe what her mother had done to a hidden camera.
Maybe her first lesson in fighting the thing watching her.
Before we could say more, Matteo’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Silence.
Then his expression changed.
“Bell.”
I stood.
Arthur Bell’s voice was faint but audible.
“Matteo.”
“Where are you?”
“You should have left this alone.”
“You watched my daughter.”
“I protected her.”
Matteo’s face became terrifying.
I moved beside Leah before he could raise his voice.
Bell continued:
“Elena was sick.”
“You put cameras in her rooms.”
“She made accusations.”
“You lied about them.”
“I kept the household stable.”
“Where are you?”
Bell ignored him.
“Ask the nanny why she really took the job.”
I froze.
Matteo looked at me.
“What?”
Bell laughed softly.
“You think Nora Hale arrived by accident?”
My blood went cold.
Matteo’s eyes sharpened.
Bell continued:
“Ask her about her mother.”
Then the line died.
For one second, nobody moved.
Matteo looked at me.
“What about your mother?”
I stared.
“I have no idea.”
But somewhere inside me, fear had already begun assembling a memory.
My mother’s first nursing job.
Private home care.
Upper East Side.
A wealthy family she never named.
May you like
Twenty-five years ago.
And suddenly I knew exactly what question I needed to ask her.
