Chapter 2 - The Mansion Where Rosie Lived Was Also the Place Where Everyone Had Been Waiting for Me to ReturnBlackwood Estate looked less like a home and more like a private kingdom.
Tall iron gates.
Security cameras.
Stone walls.
A driveway lined with palm trees.
The Atlantic glittered beyond the property.
Two men checked my identification.
Then another person scanned my bag.
I understood why.
Jericho Blackwood had enemies.
Probably hundreds.
But the strange thing was that everyone who searched me already knew my name.
“Lennox Pierce.”
“Yes.”
They exchanged a glance.
I noticed.
“You've heard of me?”
“No.”
He lied.
Inside, the mansion was enormous.
But strangely quiet.
A house that large should have been full of life.
Instead, it felt like a museum.
Beautiful.
Expensive.
Empty.
Rosie came running down the staircase.
“Lennox!”
I smiled.
“Good morning.”
“You came back.”
“I said I would.”
She hugged my waist.
Her nanny looked startled.
Apparently Rosie didn't hug many people.
A deep voice came from behind me.
“She doesn't usually do that.”
I turned.
Jericho stood near the library.
White shirt.
Dark trousers.
No tie.
He looked younger without his suit.
Still dangerous.
But tired.
“Good morning.”
“Mr. Blackwood.”
“Jericho.”
I hesitated.
“All right.”
He looked at Rosie.
“Go have breakfast.”
She frowned.
“But I want Lennox.”
“Lennox will join you.”
Rosie smiled.
Then ran away.
Jericho waited until she was gone.
“Did you sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Any problems?”
“No.”
“You aren't afraid?”
I looked at him.
“Should I be?”
His mouth twitched.
“Probably.”
I smiled.
“Then I'll be careful.”
He studied me.
For several seconds.
“You're unusual.”
“That's what people keep telling me.”
“Do you know what happened at the restaurant?”
“I defended a child.”
“You challenged four men who had more money than your restaurant's annual revenue.”
“They were being cruel.”
“You weren't afraid.”
“I was.”
“But you stayed.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“I respect that.”
I didn't know what to say.
He continued:
“Rosie hasn't laughed like that in months.”
I looked toward the dining room.
“She seems happy.”
“She wasn't.”
“What changed?”
“You.”
I stared.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You made her feel normal.”
That sentence touched something inside me.
I knew what it was like to feel abnormal.
To look into a mirror and not know who you were.
I changed the subject.
“What happened to her mother?”
His expression closed.
“She died.”
“I'm sorry.”
He nodded.
“She was sick.”
I didn't ask more.
The nanny arrived.
“Breakfast is ready.”
Rosie shouted from another room.
“Lennox!”
I smiled.
“I should go.”
Jericho stopped me.
“Lennox.”
I turned.
“If you ever feel uncomfortable here, tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because you're not an employee.”
I frowned.
“Then what am I?”
He looked at me.
“I haven't decided.”
That was unsettling.
My first week passed peacefully.
I learned Rosie's routines.
She hated broccoli.
She loved stories.
She was terrified of thunderstorms.
She slept with a blue stuffed rabbit.
Every night, she asked whether her mother was coming home.
Every night, I told her:
“Your mother loves you.”
I never lied about the rest.
One evening, a storm hit Miami.
The sky became black.
Thunder shook the house.
Rosie crawled into my bed.
“Lennox?”
“Yes?”
“Can I stay?”
“Of course.”
She curled beside me.
“Daddy doesn't like storms.”
“Why?”
“He says they remind him of things.”
“What things?”
She shrugged.
“Mommy.”
I looked at her.
“He misses her.”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
That night, I heard footsteps outside my room.
Jericho.
He stopped at the doorway.
Saw Rosie sleeping.
Then looked at me.
“You don't have to sit with her.”
“I don't mind.”
He nodded.
Then his eyes moved to my face.
“Have we met before?”
My heart skipped.
“No.”
He stared.
“That's what you said at the restaurant.”
“Because it's true.”
“I know.”
He walked away.
The next morning, one of the household staff mentioned that Jericho's security team was conducting an investigation.
“About what?”
She looked uncomfortable.
“Nothing.”
I didn't press.
Until that afternoon, when Jericho came into the nursery holding a folder.
“Sit.”
I did.
He opened it.
Photographs.
My employment records.
My bank account.
My driver's license.
My apartment.
My phone.
Everything.
“What is this?”
“Your background.”
I stared.
“You investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you are suddenly important to my daughter.”
I felt offended.
“I have never harmed her.”
“I know.”
“Then what is the problem?”
He placed another photograph on the table.
The same one.
Five years earlier.
“You tell me.”
I looked at it.
“I don't remember this.”
“You're in it.”
“I know.”
“Who is the man?”
“I don't know.”
“He died five years ago.”
I looked at him.
“And?”
“His name was Gabriel Voss.”
The name meant nothing.
Jericho studied my face.
“No reaction.”
“Should there be?”
“He was connected to your life.”
“I don't remember him.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
He opened another file.
A blank page.
“Your birth records.”
“Nothing.”
“School.”
“Nothing.”
“Medical.”
“Nothing.”
“Passport history.”
“Nothing.”
My voice became quiet.
“You're saying I don't exist.”
He looked at me.
“No.”
He leaned forward.
“I'm saying someone erased you.”
My heart began pounding.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why investigate me?”
“Because five years ago, Gabriel Voss disappeared.”
“And five years ago, you appeared.”
I stared.
“You think I'm connected.”
“I think coincidence has never been this precise.”
I looked away.
The room felt smaller.
Jericho closed the folder.
“You can leave.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Go.”
“You're firing me?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because if someone erased your past, they may come looking for what you know.”
“I don't know anything.”
“That may be what makes you dangerous.”
I stood.
Rosie appeared at the door.
“Are you leaving?”
I looked at her.
My heart hurt.
Jericho watched.
Rosie ran into my arms.
“Please don't.”
I held her.
“I'll be here.”
Jericho didn't say anything.
After Rosie left, I looked at him.
“I'm staying.”
“Why?”
“Because she needs someone.”
His eyes softened.
“That's not safe.”
“Neither is leaving.”
He nodded.
“Then you're staying under my protection.”
The words sounded like a sentence.
But I would later realize they were a promise.
That night, I found something beneath my pillow.
A folded note.
No signature.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED DEAD.
I stared at it.
Someone had entered my room.
Someone had come inside Jericho's mansion.
And whoever it was knew exactly what I was.
Someone who knew what happened five years ago.
May you like
Someone who knew why I had disappeared.
And someone who was now afraid that Jericho Blackwood would uncover the truth.
Related Stories
