Chapter 3 - The Uninvited GuestMoving to the east wing felt like stepping into an entirely different mansion. High ceilings, crown molding, antique Persian rugs, and massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the private rose gardens. It was luxurious, beautiful, and completely isolated from the rest of the domestic staff's quarters—which suited Mrs. Gable just fine, judging by the frosty silence she maintained whenever our paths crossed.
By my third week, the routine had settled into a comfortable, albeit tense, rhythm. The girls were sleeping through the night more often, their bright laughter echoing down the hallways during playtime, much to the quiet astonishment of the guards stationed outside.
However, peace in the Moretti household was never permanent.
It happened on a rainy Thursday evening. Vincent had been summoned away to Manhattan earlier that morning for urgent business regarding his downtown shipping terminals, leaving me alone with the girls and the estate security team.
Around 7:30 p.m., after tucking Maisie and Rosie into bed with a rambling, improvised story about a space-traveling penguin, I walked down to the main kitchen to grab a glass of herbal tea. The house was unusually quiet, save for the steady drum of rain against the massive glass conservatory windows.
As I reached the bottom of the grand marble staircase, the heavy oak front doors suddenly swung open.
I froze. Visitors without prior notice were strictly forbidden, and the estate gates required high-security clearance.
A tall, striking woman stepped into the grand foyer, shaking the rain from an expensive designer trench coat. She had sharp, aristocratic features, ice-blonde hair pulled back into a severe chignon, and a pair of predatory blue eyes that immediately locked onto me.
“Who are you?” she demanded sharply, shedding her coat onto a nearby mahogany bench without waiting for an invitation. “Where is Vincent?”
I blinked, keeping my posture calm and steady. “Mr. Moretti is currently in New York on business. May I ask who is calling?”
The woman let out a cold, dismissive laugh, stepping closer across the marble floor. “Calling? Oh, sweet girl, I don’t ‘call’ on this house. I live here—or at least, I used to, before Vincent got all melodramatic and locked himself away with his dead wife’s ghost.”
A cold chill ran down my spine. I knew from the personnel files I had memorized before taking the job that Vincent was a widower, but the tone of this woman—and the sheer entitlement radiating from her posture—suggested something far more complicated.
“I am Elise Navarro, the girls' live-in nanny,” I said clearly, holding my ground. “Mr. Moretti did not mention any guests arriving this evening. If you’d like, I can have security show you out or arrange a hotel in town—”
“Security?” She laughed again, stepping right up to me. Up close, her perfume was overpowering—expensive jasmine mixed with sharp citrus. “Listen to the hired help trying to give orders. I am Claudia Vance. And Vincent is my fiancé’s business partner—among other things, historically speaking.”
The name hit me like a physical blow. Claudia Vance. Daughter of Marcus Vance, the aging patriarch of the rival shipping syndicate operating out of the neighboring New Jersey ports. Rumor had it that Vincent’s marriage to Elena had been a strategic truce between the families, and after Elena’s tragic death, alliances had frayed dangerously.
“Mr. Moretti is not here, Miss Vance,” I repeated, my voice dropping into a professional, unyielding register. “I suggest you leave before I notify head security.”
Claudia’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. She raised a manicured hand as if to brush past me toward the stairs. “I am going to check on the girls. I want to see how much damage a cheap agency nanny has done to—”
Before her hand could touch my shoulder, a heavy, metallic click echoed from the doorway behind her.
“Touch her, Claudia, and I will have my men throw you off the pier.”
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The temperature in the foyer plunged to absolute zero.
Vincent stood in the open doorway, his dark overcoat dripping with rain, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscle ticked visibly. His eyes were burning with a cold, lethal fury that made Claudia’s confident facade fracture instantly.
