Chapter 3 - The Note at the Gala
The Mercer Holdings winter benefit for Boston Children’s Hospital arrived beneath chandeliers, polished glass, and enough money in one room to make Claire uncomfortable on principle. She had not intended to attend. Lily refused to go without her. “I hate dresses,” Lily announced. “You’re wearing one,” Claire said. “I hate crowds.” “We can leave whenever you want.” Lily’s face changed. “I hate people asking if I miss Mommy.” Claire stopped adjusting the silver sash around Lily’s waist. “Then we leave the second you ask. Promise.” Lily nodded.
Adrian had arranged a dress for Claire—a deep navy gown, simple and elegant, more expensive than Claire’s first car. She nearly refused it. “I own black,” she said. “A cardigan does not become formal because it’s black,” Adrian replied. Later, when she came down the mansion staircase, he looked up and stopped. Claire immediately touched the fabric at her waist. The dress fit her curves instead of hiding them. She was used to clothes designed as apologies. This one was not. “Is it terrible?” “No.” He answered too quickly. “You look…” Claire waited. “Appropriate.” Her mouth fell open. “Appropriate?” Adrian closed his eyes briefly. “I chose the wrong word.” “You think?” “You look beautiful.” Claire forgot her next breath. Adrian looked annoyed with himself. Lily bounded between them in silver shoes. “Claire looks like a princess!” Claire nodded. “Your version was better.”
At the gala, people looked at Claire. Some recognized the nanny. Others assumed she was family and seemed offended by their own confusion. Near the ballroom entrance, a thin blonde woman in a silver gown approached Adrian. “Adrian.” His entire posture changed. “Vanessa.” Claire knew the name: Vanessa Carroway, daughter of a banking family, repeatedly linked to Adrian in society pages after Rebecca’s death. Vanessa’s gaze moved slowly over Claire. “And you are?” “Claire Bennett.” “The nanny.” It was not a question. Claire smiled. “Yes.” Vanessa looked at Lily holding Claire’s hand. “So you brought staff.” Adrian’s expression hardened. “Lily asked Claire to come.” Vanessa smiled without warmth. “Children become attached to all kinds of things after trauma.”
Claire felt Lily’s fingers tighten. That was enough. She crouched. “Want to see the dessert table?” Lily nodded. Claire led her away. Adrian caught up before they reached it. “Claire.” “I’m fine.” “I didn’t ask.” She faced him. “She shouldn’t have said that in front of Lily.” “I know.” “Then go handle your guest.” “She isn’t my guest.” “Your friend.” “She isn’t that either.” Claire glanced toward Vanessa, who was watching them. Adrian followed her gaze and understood. “Vanessa and I have never been together.” Claire’s heart made a ridiculous leap. She hated it. “Why are you telling me?” “That’s an excellent question.”
Marcus appeared before either could answer. His face was grim. “No cameras caught who delivered this.” Adrian opened the folded card. Claire watched the color leave his face. “What does it say?” “Nothing.” “Adrian.” He handed it to her. One sentence in black ink: Your wife was the first thing you couldn’t save. Which one will be next?
Claire’s blood went cold. Lily returned with two cupcakes. Adrian folded the note before she could see it. “Daddy?” His face softened instantly. “Change of plans, bug. We’re going home.” Lily pouted. “But cupcakes.” “Bring them.” Claire expected him to summon security around Lily. Instead, in the crowded ballroom, Adrian’s hand found Claire’s. His grip was firm, protective, terrified. This time both of them were awake.
On the ride home, Claire could still feel the pressure of his fingers after he let go. The mansion gates closed behind them, guards taking positions in the snow. Inside, Lily carried her cupcakes upstairs as if nothing had happened. Claire stood in the foyer while Adrian spoke quietly with Marcus. She should have felt relief at being behind walls. Instead, the threatening note had transformed those walls into something else. Someone did not merely know where Lily lived. Someone knew Adrian’s grief. Someone knew exactly where to cut him.
Adrian finally looked at Claire. “You should stay in the main wing tonight.” “Is that an order?” “A request.” Claire studied him. “You’re learning.” “Slowly.” She almost smiled. Then she remembered the card. “They called Rebecca the first thing you couldn’t save.” Adrian’s eyes went dark. “Yes.” “Was she threatened before?” He was silent too long. “Adrian.” “Not like this.” It was not a complete answer, and Claire knew it.
May you like
She also knew something else now. The first morning he had held her hand, she had believed it was an accident born from exhaustion. At the gala, there had been nothing accidental about it. The realization frightened her almost as much as the note. Because danger outside the gates could be guarded against. What was happening inside her did not have a security plan.
That night Claire slept badly in the guest room, though Marcus had stationed a guard at the end of the hall. Near two in the morning she heard footsteps and opened the door to find Adrian standing outside Lily’s room. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked. “I’m working.” Claire glanced at his bare feet. “Very corporate.” Adrian looked down as if surprised to find himself without shoes. For a few seconds neither spoke. Then Claire asked, “Did Rebecca know about the old threats?” “Some.” “Did you decide what she was allowed to know too?” His eyes lifted sharply. Claire almost apologized, but Adrian said, “Yes.” The honesty disarmed her. “Did it help?” “No.” “Then don’t do that to me.” Adrian nodded. “I’ll try.” “You’re allowed to fail.” “Generous.” “You’re not allowed to make failure a personality.” The corner of his mouth moved. In the bedroom behind them, Lily shifted in her sleep. Adrian and Claire both turned toward the sound at the same time. That frightened Claire too—the instinctive way they had begun moving like people on the same side.
