Chapter 2 - The Offer I Should Have Refused
The moment the jet landed, six black SUVs surrounded it.
I thought it was absurd.
Then I saw the men carrying earpieces, scanning rooftops, checking every vehicle.
Leo Mercer stepped down the stairs first.
He held Isla against his chest.
I followed with my overnight bag.
A security officer approached me.
“Ms. Vance, stay close to Mr. Mercer.”
I frowned.
“I'm capable of walking.”
He didn't smile.
“That's not the concern.”
“What is?”
He glanced toward the terminal.
“Someone knew this flight was coming.”
My stomach turned.
Leo looked back.
“Nora.”
I stepped closer.
He didn't explain.
He simply walked.
We entered a waiting SUV.
Isla was transferred to a pediatric specialist Leo had apparently summoned before we landed.
I stayed in the car.
Ten minutes later, Leo returned.
“She’s fine.”
I released a breath.
Then he sat across from me.
“You need to hear something.”
I waited.
“Your name came up before my daughter became sick.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“A background search was run on everyone who had contact with Isla.”
“You searched me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the person attempting to access her records used a shell company connected to a staffing agency.”
I stared at him.
“The agency that hired me?”
“Yes.”
My fingers went cold.
“You think I was planted?”
“No.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because I can't protect you from something you don't know about.”
I hated how reasonable he sounded.
“You keep saying protect.”
“Because someone is watching you.”
I laughed nervously.
“Why would anyone watch me?”
“That is what we're trying to determine.”
He handed me a folder.
Inside were photographs.
Me leaving the grocery store.
Me walking past a pharmacy.
Me sitting alone at a bus stop.
Me entering the apartment building where I had been staying.
I looked up.
“How long?”
“Six weeks.”
My heart stopped.
Six weeks.
Someone had been following me before I ever met Leo.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
“Then how can you know it's connected?”
“We don't.”
He closed the folder.
“That’s the problem.”
I should have left.
I should have taken the first commercial flight home.
Instead I thought about Isla.
That tiny hand.
That exhausted face.
The way she had calmed against me.
I understood something about mothers.
Sometimes biology wasn't the only thing that created attachment.
Sometimes desperation did.
Leo drove me to his Seattle estate.
It wasn't a home.
It was a fortress disguised as one.
Tall gates.
Multiple buildings.
Security cameras hidden among trees.
But inside, the nursery was beautiful.
Soft yellow walls.
White curtains.
A shelf of children's books.
A rocking chair.
A framed photograph of Isla's mother.
I stopped.
She was beautiful.
Dark hair.
Kind smile.
Pregnant.
Leo appeared behind me.
“Her name was Amelia.”
I whispered, “She looks happy.”
“She was.”
He stared at the photograph.
“I thought we'd have decades.”
He looked down at Isla.
“We got eleven days.”
I didn't know what to say.
So I said the only thing I could.
“You loved her.”
“Yes.”
His voice softened.
“I still do.”
He handed Isla to me.
She immediately nestled against my shoulder.
Leo looked at the sight.
“You can stay.”
“For how long?”
“Until she doesn't need you.”
I shook my head.
“That could be weeks.”
“Then weeks.”
“I have a life.”
He looked at me.
“Do you?”
The question was cruel.
And accurate.
I looked away.
He regretted it instantly.
“I’m sorry.”
I swallowed.
“My husband died three months ago.”
Leo froze.
“I’m sorry.”
“He wasn't perfect.”
“No one is.”
“He left behind our children.”
Leo waited.
“They're not with me.”
His expression changed.
“Why?”
“Family court.”
He didn't ask more.
Instead, he said, “Then stay here. I'll make sure you have time to fight for them.”
I stared at him.
“I don't need your money.”
“I know.”
“I don't need saving.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you offering?”
“A job.”
“What kind?”
“Private caregiver for Isla.”
I laughed softly.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
“You know that I breastfed your daughter.”
“That's more than anyone else could do.”
I looked at Isla.
“She needs consistency.”
“I agree.”
He slid a contract across the table.
The salary was more than I had made in a year.
I didn't touch it.
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“No?”
“I don't want to owe you.”
“You won't.”
“Everyone says that.”
“Then don't take the money.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Name your salary.”
“I don't understand.”
“I'll pay you whatever you think your time is worth.”
I studied him.
“You really don't hear how arrogant that sounds?”
A faint smile appeared.
“There she is.”
“What?”
“The woman who stood up on a private jet and told me how to feed my daughter.”
I looked away.
“You need help.”
“Yes.”
“You hate admitting that.”
“Yes.”
“Then you might survive me.”
He almost smiled.
I signed.
Not because of the money.
Because of Isla.
That night, after everyone went to sleep, I went into the nursery.
Isla was awake.
I picked her up.
She made a tiny sound.
I smiled.
“I know.”
Her little head rested against my chest.
And I realized something terrifying.
I had missed being needed.
Maybe more than I missed being loved.
Across the hallway, Leo stood unseen.
He watched us through the half-open door.
And for the first time since Amelia died, he allowed himself to believe that his daughter might be safe.
But at 2:13 in the morning, every alarm in the house went off.
Security rushed toward the nursery.
Leo came running.
The cameras showed a man standing outside the gates.
He looked directly at the lens.
Then he raised one hand.
May you like
In it was a photograph.
A photograph of me.
