CHAPTER 2 — THE RULES OF HAWTHORNE HOUSE

Elena should have walked away.

Every instinct told her that the Hawthorne family was hiding something dangerous.

But that evening, her mother called from the hospital.

“The doctor says they need another payment before treatment continues,” Rosa Reyes said weakly.

“How much?”

When Rosa told her, Elena closed her eyes.

She could not afford to leave.

On Monday morning, Elena returned with one suitcase.

Margaret met her at the entrance and handed her a printed list.

“The household rules.”

Elena read them.

Oliver was not allowed near the west wing after eight o’clock.

No employee could enter the nursery corridor after midnight.

No photographs could be taken inside the house.

No questions were to be asked about Evelyn Hawthorne.

“Evelyn was Oliver’s mother?” Elena asked.

Margaret’s mouth tightened.

“You’ve already broken the fourth rule.”

Elena folded the paper.

“Children don’t stop speaking for no reason.”

“Sometimes grief is reason enough.”

“And sometimes fear is.”

Margaret stepped closer.

“You need this job, Miss Reyes. I suggest you remember that.”

Oliver’s bedroom was on the second floor.

It was large, beautiful, and almost empty. There were expensive toys lined along the shelves, but none looked touched. The only object Oliver seemed to care about was a battered stuffed rabbit missing one eye.

Elena sat on the floor while he watched her from the window seat.

“I know you don’t want another nanny.”

No response.

“I probably wouldn’t want one either.”

Oliver’s fingers tightened around the rabbit.

Elena took a notebook from her bag.

“We don’t have to talk. We can write.”

She placed the notebook between them.

After several minutes, Oliver crossed the room.

He wrote one question.

DO YOU HAVE A MOM?

“Yes.”

IS SHE SICK?

Elena stared at him.

“How did you know?”

Oliver pointed toward the open suitcase. A hospital bill was partially visible beneath her clothes.

Elena smiled faintly.

“You notice everything, don’t you?”

Oliver wrote again.

MY MOM IS SICK TOO.

Elena’s smile disappeared.

“Your father told me she died.”

Oliver shook his head violently.

He flipped to a clean page and drew a room.

A bed.

A barred window.

A woman lying beneath a blanket.

Then he drew a second figure standing beside her.

The figure wore black.

Margaret.

Before Elena could ask anything else, Oliver snatched the notebook and shoved it beneath his mattress.

Footsteps approached.

Nathaniel entered.

“How is he?”

“Observant.”

Nathaniel looked at Oliver.

“He used to be happy.”

“What happened two years ago?”

“My wife drowned.”

“Where?”

“Off the family dock.”

“Was Oliver there?”

Nathaniel’s expression closed.

“That is enough.”

He turned to leave.

Elena followed him into the hallway.

“Mr. Hawthorne, your son believes his mother is alive.”

“He was six years old when she died. He couldn’t accept it.”

“Did he see her body?”

Nathaniel stopped.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The harbor never returned it.”

That night, Elena woke at 2:13 a.m.

Someone was humming outside her room.

The same broken melody she had heard on her first visit.

Elena opened the door.

The hallway was empty.

At the far end, Oliver stood barefoot in his pajamas.

He was walking toward the west wing.

“Oliver,” Elena whispered.

He did not turn.

She hurried after him.

When she reached the nursery corridor, the white door was open.

Only a few inches.

Oliver stood before it.

A pale hand appeared through the gap.

A woman’s hand.

Thin fingers reached toward the boy.

Elena grabbed Oliver and pulled him back.

The door slammed shut.

Oliver struggled desperately in her arms.

Then, for the first time in two years, he screamed one word.

“Mom!”

Lights flashed on throughout the mansion.

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Margaret appeared at the opposite end of the corridor.

She was holding a syringe.